


A Fangirl's Dream (vol. 3): New Year's Eve in Cortina d'Ampezzo

by Lady_Angel_Fanwriter



Series: A Fangirl's Dream [3]
Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Cortina d'Ampezzo, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Love, New Year's Eve, Romance, Romanticism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-17
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-11-15 05:38:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 45,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11224446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Angel_Fanwriter/pseuds/Lady_Angel_Fanwriter
Summary: The announcement of her relationship with Richard Armitage throws Nives into a media tornado, which she must confront as best as she can. Luckily, only a few weeks later she and the handsome British actor meet again to celebrate together New Year's Eve, in a romantic chalet in Cortina d'Ampezzo...





	1. Chapter I: Wednesday, December 16th, 2014

 

Chapter I: Wednesday, December 16th, 2014

The chirp of her mobile phone warned Nives about the arrival of a text message. She diverted her attention from the quotation she was preparing for a client and checked who it was. Seeing it was Richard, she smiled while opening the text.  
_Marlise just sent me the link to YT about her report, I forward it to you… Remember I love you very much._  
His tone made her anxious. She left the quotation and linked to YouTube; she didn’t even bother to watch the video, instead she looked at the incredible number of visualisations, over 4000, on a publication of less than two hours. Heart pounding hard, she looked at the underlying comments. As in the articles she had so far picked up in the internet, most were favourable, other neutral, some warmer, some even enthusiastic; but there were some rather spiteful, due to a predictable envy, and she sighed, resigned. However, it wasn’t realistic hoping otherwise: all fans of Richard surely wished to be in her place and some of them just couldn’t accept he had a woman, because until he was single, they could dream about being that woman. Well, they could go to hell, as far as she was concerned, thought Nives, annoyed: if they really loved Richard as they claimed, they would be happy for him, otherwise it meant only they were some immature egoists and deserved no further consideration. She didn’t like being criticised with no real reason, but she was largely compensated by the simple fact she was with Richard. _F*uck these mentally 12-years-old people_ , would Beatrice say; and she was right.  
At this point, Nives watched the video; the actual length was just a few minutes, which she replayed in her mind with the same intense thrill of two weeks earlier, then Marlise had added a tail where she said that Richard’s Italian girlfriend was a very nice woman whom she had been very happy to meet and hoped to interview in a short time, to make her reveal how she had been able to win the heart of this dream-man.  
“Marlise I adore you!”, Nives cried, even if she knew perfectly she couldn’t hear her. However, she could send her a message via Twitter: after their encounter in London, she had followed the American journalist and former actress, and Marlise had reciprocated her immediately.  
Then she reminded Richard telling her that, after the release of Marlise’s video, he would tweet its link; she quickly accessed Twitter and there it was indeed his comment _Thk u @MarliseBoland for the nice interview!_ Under it she could see a long string of messages, which tone was clearly positive, but this was to be expected, here where the fans thought they had a chance having Richard reading their comments – he did, actually, at least partially, because he received too much messages to read them all – and therefore they wouldn’t want to displease him.  
The phone rang, interrupting her. Nives snorted, but it was her job, therefore she sobered immediately. She answered and paid attention to a client asking about a shipping; when she was done with him, she completed the quotation and sent it, and finally got back to Twitter, this time to check on her own account. Here, like on Facebook, she had a nickname disguising her true identity, luckily, so she didn’t find thousand new followers all of a sudden, who could invade her wall with messages and notifications. Thinking it prudent, she cancelled the image portraying her as Nerwen the Green and left it momentarily neutral; she would think later about some symbol she could use instead of it. This way she made it harder for curious strangers to find her.  
The warehouseman – a nice young man who loved riding horses like Beatrice, but western style – came in to take her several orders ready to be shipped, so in the following 30 minutes Nives was busy drawing the needed documents and booking the preferential carrier of the company; later she surfed again in the internet, this time to visit _The Anglophile Channel_ site where she found the same video she had seen on YouTube, with other comments. The tone was mostly respectful, even in the critics, and she felt relieved; only a few were openly hostile. She didn’t _really_ care about the opinion of people she didn’t know, but she didn’t want their romantic relationship damaging Richard’s imagine in any way.  
At this point, she checked on her Facebook account and, as she expected, she found messages from some of the friends who knew her true identity but hadn’t known until now who her mysterious British boyfriend was. All of them expressed happy surprise and complimented her for her luck in meeting the man of her dreams and having him falling in love with her.  
Nives felt even more relieved; not that she was thinking that was all, there were surely many who were green with envy and would throw all sorts of filth at her… She might as well confront it immediately, as it was her style, therefore Nives nosed around in the various groups she was in dedicated to Richard.  
One of them was Italian, and almost all the members were her virtual friends; there she found a post, with a screencap taken from Marlise’s video where she could be seen next to Richard who was holding her hand, and the funny note _who would like to be our Princess Dream?_ , followed by comments like _me, me!_ Or _Who wouldn’t?_ and also _What silly question is this? ME of course!_ And so on.  
Another post was a photomontage of Nerwen the Green –the image came from one of those published on Nives’ account – and of Thorin Oakenshield, apposing them so they seemed looking at each other, surrounded by small hearts. The caption said _AAAAHHHHH but you told us nothing Princess Dream!!!! In London you did much more than just going to see him in theatre, tell the truth!!!!_ A smiling emoticon followed it. Under the post a comment said _Now to make up you must tell us everything in detail, otherwise we’ll ban you from this group hahaha!_  
Another post was by a very romantic girl, who posted a similar image and wrote _Well-done Princess Dream, you’re every fangirl!_ And a comment saying _Your name is faithful: your dream has come true, I envy you much but I’m also very happy because this means that, sometimes, life can he better than dreams…_ This last sentence made tears well up in her eyes, because it summarised exactly how she felt.  
_Thank you dear,_ she wrote _, you’re right, it’s a dream that has come true. When I met Richard in London, I’d never imagine he’d fall in love with me and we’d get together… I feel like being in some wonderful, romantic movie._  
At this point, she wrote a post, asking all of them not to reveal that Princess Dream was Nives Nardini, or else she would be flooded with inopportune friendship requests from people interested only in the fact she was with a famous actor. The group was small and solid and, to her great relief, she received assurances from all members. One of them asked her how it was that, from spectator of a theatrical play, she had become Richard’s fiancée. Nives felt uneasy with this description, toward which she had mixed feelings; on one hand, she and Richard never spoke about marriage – anyway, it was way too soon – and on the other one, after the terrible disillusion she went through, she swore she would marry never again, not legally at least, at most an unofficial ceremony, pagan, celtic, elven, it didn’t matter – as long as it _wouldn’t_ be binding for the law. She wasn’t interested, because she didn’t believe anymore that a solemn promise ratified by a recognized authority would be more binding than an informal promise made privately, or in front of friends and relatives.  
She answered her telling briefly about Richard’s invitations after the meeting with fans outside the stage door, the following day they spent together, his request to visit Venice with her as his personal tourist guide and discovering to be in love with each other, as well as the decision to keep it private for some time, in order to savour it by them alone.  
Then she nosed in an international group, where she found the link to Marlise’s video and several comments, some nice, other not so. One was even offensive, but a friend of the Italian group had scolded the offender, accusing her to speak out of pure envy and inviting her to measure her words toward a person who, after all, she didn’t know; very discreetly she didn’t reveal she instead knew Nives well – even if only virtually – and finished her reprimand calling in the admin to reproach the rude member of the group. Nives thought about replying herself, but this would reveal that Princess Dream was Nives Nardini and would blow up her privacy completely. Now she was gladder even the more about having as an avatar an image of actress Cate Blanchett as Elisabeth I of England – a historic figure she admired greatly – and that the pictures she published would be visible only to her friends and not to anybody else, so that her face, now known by tens of thousands, wasn’t plainly linked to this account. Should things go crazy, she could anyway cancel it and possibly create a new one, where she would accept only people she knew. She sighed: these were only the first symptoms of the fame that was about to hit her as the partner of a famous person.  
She went back to the Italian group and thanked her friend for defending her in the international group; the latter told her she didn’t need to thank her, she did it because she didn’t stand 12-years-old minded people and she actually enjoyed scolding her hard. This made Nives laugh aloud.  
At this point, she thought about sending the link of Marlise’s video to Beatrice and Lorraine via private message and then awaited their reactions. The first one to answer was, no question, Beatrice, followed soon after by Lorraine: both complimented her excitedly.  
Meanwhile, Nives had sent the same link to her best friends, Fulvia and Francesca, her godson and goddaughter’s mums, and received back their enthusiastic comments, expressing all their happiness for her.

Thursday, December 17th, 2014

“I can’t wait to see you again in Cortina”, Richard said. He was talking via Skype to Nives, who was watching him out of the notebook’s screen with such an adoring expression, he felt like melting on the spot.

  
Nives smiled at him:  
“Nor can I… I think we should buy bigger watches!”, she added wittily. Richard needed a minute to understand the joke, than he laughed.  
“You’re right”, he admitted, “with a truly large face!”  
Nives, too, laughed.  
“How was the interview?”, she asked him, referring to the one she knew he did the night before during the historic CBS talk show _Late Show with David Letterman._  
“Very well, David is hilarious and I don’t know if I spent more time laughing or talking… They should publish the interview in streaming tonight; as soon as I see the link, I’ll post it to you.”  
“Fine, I’ll wait for it”, Nives answered, then she thought it better to go back to the original topic, “When will you arrive in Cortina?”  
“On Saturday, 27th; I’ll get on the plane from Gatwick to Tervise… Trevise… I can’t remember the correct name of the town.”  
“Treviso”, she suggested smiling.  
“Yeah, that’s it. Then from there in a taxi to Cortina, where I rented a SUV to go back and forth the ski slopes. You instead arrive on Monday, 29th, am I right?”  
“Yeah, right.”  
Her voice faded because Richard was looking at her very tenderly.  
“An entire week together”, he considered in an intimate voice. She felt suddenly very hot.  
“Exactly”, she whispered. Her voice, slightly hoarse, was able to make him feel butterflies in his stomach.  
“It’ll be a long time, from here to the 29th…”, he sighed. He longed to feel again her arms around him, her lips, her body against his; he missed her not only physically, but also in thousand more ways.  
He placed his fingers on the screen, where her cheek was, as to caress it through the cyberspace.  
“You’ve got no idea how much I look forward to see you again”, he said.  
“Of course I have”, Nives contradicted him, “because I’m looking forward it as much as you…”  
She saw Richard addressing her a thrilled smile, which made her heart beat fast. Yeah, it would be a long time until the 29th…

Friday, December 18th, 2014 and following days

In the following days, Nives was flooded with posts and messages of her Facebook friends notifying her the articles on tabloids, especially English and American, but also Australian, New Zealander, German, French, Spanish, Bulgarian and Italian. Pictures portraying her with Richard were practically everywhere.  
_I’m dumbfounded,_ she confessed to Beatrice, _I knew I had to deal with a media tornado, but I wasn’t aware it could be so much disturbing…_  
_Come on, sis,_ her friend wrote, sympathetically, _Over time, the dust will settle, you’ll see…_  
_I hope so…! I don’t think I could bear it, if it goes on too long. Talking about something else… I know you ski, have you ever been to Cortina?_  
_Yeah, several times; there are fantastic ski slopes, Richard will appreciate them, if he ever goes away from your bedroom LOL_  
_Hahaha, I’ll make him go away, pacts are he keeps me company during the morning but in the afternoon he’ll go for his favourite sport._  
_Hey, I know_ exactly _what his favourite sport is…_  
_Bea, you know, you’re a little pervert!!!_ , Nives pretended to be scandalised, then she sent her a hard-laughing emoticon.  
Beatrice laughed her socks off.  
_Anyway, I think he’ll give up one or two afternoons on the ski slopes, he’ll be eager to use the chalet spa, too, won’t he?_  
Nives thought about it: she wouldn’t like to deprive her man of his favourite sport, which he could practice only for a limited period during the year; but of course she couldn’t stop him, if he really wanted it.  
_You’ll see, it’ll be an awesome week!_ , Beatrice wrote, genuinely happy for her twin friend.  
_You can bet on it…_ , Nives wrote in turn, smiling contentedly. An entire week with Richard looked like a dream to her.

Tuesday, December 24th, 2014

While she was finishing putting away the dishes used for breakfast, having just done them, Nives heard the doorbell ring; surprised, as she wasn’t awaiting anyone, she answered on the doorphone: it was a carrier, therefore she opened the main door and went downstairs, already anticipating what it was about but not daring to take it for granted. She didn’t want to take anything for granted, with Richard, because this was a mistake she already did with her husband and it costed her dearly, in emotional terms.  
The package was rather large, but didn’t weight much; Nives signed and wished a merry Christmas to the driver, who reciprocated, then she went back to her apartment and opened the box. Inside, wrapped in tissue paper, there was a stunning garland, one of those to hang on the door, made of pine branches decorated with red and white flowers and with tiny red and golden balls. A card was with it, portraying a colourful Christmas tree and saying _Thinking of you… Merry Christmas. I love you. Richard._

  
Nives must sit, because her knees had turned to jelly; her eyes welled up with tears. She thought about all the times she had cried because of sadness and solitude, mostly during these holidays, and thought that every single tear had been worth the almost crazy joy she was feeling now. True, Richard wasn’t with her for Christmas, but it had been her choice and not some imposition; and anyway, she would see him in a very few days.  
She and Richard had a date via Skype at ten to midnight, Italian local time, that is one hour ahead than England, in order to exchange Christmas cheers; but she couldn’t wait so long to thank him. She grabbed her mobile phone to send him a text, but her hands shook too much and she had to wait a number of minutes to calm down enough to be able to compose a message: T _he garland is amazing; once more, you leave me speechless. I wonder if you’re real, my handsome British boy, or if you’re just a wonderful dream. I love you so much I can’t even tell._  
A few minutes later, she received an answer: _It’s you, the one who’s my wonderful dream, my sweet Italian girl…_  
Again, Nives felt deeply moved and a lump stuck in her throat. When she’d meet him again, she’d think about thanking him properly… she grinned naughtily: the day before she had made the perfect purchase…

Precisely at ten to eleven p.m., Skype rang its incoming call tone and Richard answered immediately; on the monitor, Nives’ smiling face appeared.  
“Merry Christmas, sweetheart”, he told her immediately, touching his fingertips with his lips and placing them on the screen. He saw her thrilled and was happy about it, because that had been precisely his intention; then she did the same, placing her fingertips – carrying her kiss – where he had his, over a thousand kilometres away.  
“ _Buon Natale, amore mio_ ”, she told him in Italian, repeating it in English.  
“ _Bon Nattale”_ , he tried. Nives chuckled and repeated it, articulating carefully the words; this time Richard was able to express them correctly.  
“Good pronunciation”, she complimented him, “Usually, Anglophones have a much more marked accent…”  
“Well, with all the diction classes I took back at drama school, I better learned something”, the actor laughed. Nives, too, laughed:  
“You’re right, I didn’t think about this!”, then she changed subject, “Your family, all’s well?”  
“Yes, thanks; my nephew caught a little cold, but it’s nothing serious at all, he was very lively… my sister-in-law had to be very strict to get him to bed, telling him that, if he didn’t obey, tomorrow he wouldn’t find anything under the Christmas tree because Santa Claus would be upset… he literally ran to bed”, he grinned, “And how’s your father?”, he asked.  
“Fine enough, except for the sadness”, Nives answered sighing, “Unfortunately, the Christmas holidays make him miss mum more than ever… and he’s not the only one.”  
“I’m sorry, darling…”  
“No, no, love, don’t feel bad”, she hurried to reassure him, “Now that you’re into my life, it’s easier to bear, both for me and for my father… He never said a word, but he worried about me, because I was alone, and now that he knows you’re there, he feels better”, she smiled with a hint of sorrow, “My mum would have liked you very much…”  
“And I’m sure I would like her likewise”, Richard replied tenderly, “I’d have been honoured to meet her.”  
Nives addressed him such an adoring gaze, he felt his heart broaden. He wished he had Dr. Who’s Tardis to go to her at once, hold her in his arms and pepper her face with kisses.  
Now it was just two minutes to 11 p.m., meaning midnight in Italy. Nives threw him a kiss and left him one minute to go and wish merry Christmas to her father, who was watching the midnight mass on TV, then she came back and made her wishes to Richard, too.  
“Tomorrow morning I’ll be busy in the kitchen”, she announced, “I’ll cook a nice meal, even if we’ll be just the two of us.”  
“What will you cook?”, he enquired.  
“A broth with noodles, homemade by dad – he’s very good at making pasta – and then… wait, how’s it in English..? – veal roast with potatoes and artichokes. For a drink, a light red wine called Bardolino, typical of the surroundings of Verona… you know, Romeo’s and Juliet’s town”, she reminded him; seeing him nodding, she went on with the list, “To finish, a slice of _pandoro_ , which is a Christmas cake again typical of Verona, its name meaning _golden bread_ , with a sweet _spumante_ called _Fiordarancio_ , that means _orange blossoms_. I’ll take them to Cortina, both the cake and the _spumante_ , so you can have a taste…”  
Accidentally, he thought about something else, to taste.  
“Gladly… but only if before I can taste… you”, he said in a low voice. Nives felt breathless and her depths trembled; she decided to take revenge.  
“O yes”, she whispered, going near the screen and taking on a very teasing tone, “I’ll allow you to taste me _everywhere_ …”  
Victim of his own seduction game, Richard felt his self-control staggering and closed his eyes for a moment, trying hard to keep it; then he opened them again, unaware that the flame burning in them was sending shivers down Nives’ spine.  
“You’re a true scoundrel and deserve a punishment…”  
She felt her throat going dry.  
“O yes… a very… _hard_ … punishment”, she replied in a hoarse voice, refusing to yield in this mischievous battle.  
Richard moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue.  
“Do you have any idea about what you do to me, Nives…?”, he mumbled. She recalled having told him the same thing in Venice.  
“The same you do to me”, she answered, exactly as he did in Venice. Richard recognised the exchange and chuckled.  
“I had it coming”, he admitted.  
“Yeah”, she smiled, shen the saw what time it was: 20 past midnight, “I’ going to bed, I’m sleepy”, she said, sighing, “Sure enough, my bed’s cold without you…”  
“Mine, too…”, he admitted; his tone showed a longing going much beyond the obvious one, shifting into the missing of the simple presence of the other person. Their separation, this time, would last only four weeks, instead of two months as it had been previously, but not knowing when they would meet again, after Cortina, got them impatient to see each other.  
“Good night”, he said, “and sweet dreams.”  
This, Nives thought, feeling touched, would always be their special way to wish goodnight to each other when they were separated.  
“To you, too, my handsome British boy…”


	2. Chapter II: Monday, December 29th, 2014 morning

 

Chapter II: Monday, December 29th, 2014 morning

Nives left at 8 o’clock in the morning; she decided to go on freeways, passing through Feltre and Belluno to Cortina, instead of taking the highway; she would need 20 minutes more, Google Maps claimed, but she would spare over 80 kilometres. She expected to arrive around 11.15 or 11.30, according to the traffic she would run into.  
While driving, Nives always listened to music; she had a good sound system, but she never kept a high volume – except for very few moments on some song she liked particularly – because she knew it was important to be able to hear what was happening around her, for instance, the approaching of blaring emergency vehicles. Before leaving, she had chosen a playlist, preferring her favourite musical artist, Alan Parsons, and now she was singing softly along the songs, which lyrics she knew almost all by heart. She was near Belluno when she heard her mobile phone ringing; she cast a glance to see who it was and, seeing Beatrice’s name, she answered, putting it immediately on speaker.  
“Hi! How’s your trip going?”  
“Hi! All is fine, I’m almost in Belluno. There’s not much traffic, if it continues like this, I’ll arrive punctually at 11.15 as the sat nav says.”  
“So, what will you cook for your man, in these days together?”, her friend enquired, “You know how the saying goes, right?, _the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach_ …”  
Nives laughed:  
“My mum added something to it: _but aiming a little lower works, too_!”  
“Your mum knew what she was talking about! Well, what do you plan?”  
“For New Year’s Eve, _vol-au-vents_ with _ricotta_ cheese, _tortelli_ pasta with radicchio, beef tenderloin with various vegetables and at midnight, _pandoro_ ; while for New Year’s Day, starter with seafood balls with thyme and parsley, then baked gilthead bream, again vegetables, included lentils of course, and a fabulous bun from my favourite patisserie.”  
“I think you’ll make your way through Richard’s stomach…”, Beatrice approved, “And I bet your aim _a little lower_ will also be excellent… Tell me, did you buy some nice lingerie?”  
“Sure! I went to the best lingerie store in town and bought something themed, so to speak: a red baby-doll in silk and lace. I paid out a fortune, but I think it’s worth.”  
“You want to drive that man crazy!”, Beatrice cried, laughing, “No nightgown?”  
“Yeah, the long, green one I brought in London, too, but to be honest, I don’t think I’ll need it much…”  
“Nives, you’re a naughty imp…!!”  
They both burst again into laughter like two teen-agers; and indeed that was the way Nives felt, because she was happy beyond every measure.  
“You know, the ultrasound scan confirmed that Eldariel’s foal will be male”, Beatrice announced at this point, changing subject, “and therefore I confirm I’ll call him Allakos.”  
“Thanks, I’m flattered you’ll call him after Aryon’s stallion”, Nives smiled.  
“How’s the writing of your fan fiction progressing?”, Beatrice enquired.  
“Very well! Since I’m with Richard, even better… most of all in the love scenes between Nerwen and her Elven prince…”  
Again, they grinned like teen-agers; they chatted a little longer, then Nives put the phone down because, having to cross Belluno, she thought it better if she concentrated on driving.  
“Turn off the phone when you’ll arrive”, Beatrice recommended her, “Nothing shall interrupt your week of love!”  
“I’ll do that”, Nives assured her, “I’ll turn it on only once in a while to send a text to my father telling him everything’s fine, and to wish him a happy new year.”  
“Good! Enjoy your man and don’t think of anything else”, Beatrice exhorted her, and finally they said goodbye.  
It was 11.20 when Nives arrived at the chalet at the address Richard had given her, a few kilometres outside Cortina and slightly higher, in a rather secluded and quiet area. Everything was covered in a noticeable, even if not very high, layer of snow, muffling sounds and enfolding the world in an enchanted and very romantic atmosphere.

  
Nives got off the car and was about to take her luggage, when a very tall male figure arrived, wrapped in an anorak.  
“Welcome, baby”, said a deep baritone voice. Nives forgot the trolley, jerked around with a wide smile and threw her arms around Richard’s neck; he grabbed and lifted her, making her playfully fly around in circles. Then he put her down and peppered her mouth with small kisses; she reciprocated them, oblivious of everything, immeasurably happy to be in his arms again. Then Richard parted his lips and deepened the kiss, which became sensual and passionate and made her knees wobble in thrill, forcing her to grasp his shoulders in order not to collapse on the spot.  
Richard wasn’t feeling differently; he had been very impatient to see Nives again, so much that the day before he had skied very distractedly and risked more than once to fall like a novice, and now he was so overjoyed, he felt his heart up his throat. He pulled back a little and whispered against her lips:  
“I adore kissing you, sweetheart…”  
His statement made Nives’ heart race madly; she was about to answer, but he kissed her again even more fervently. Finally they parted and looked into each other’s eyes.  
“Did you have a nice trip?”, he asked.  
“Thanks, yes, the trip has been good indeed, there wasn’t much traffic”, she answered, then she shivered, “Come on, let’s go in… I’m freezing!”, she exhorted him. She turned to take her case, but Richard anticipated her and removed it off the boot, warning her with a look not to try and protest: not only his education imposed him to be always the gentleman, with every woman, but he _liked_ to be gentlemanly with her.  
Nives addressed him that smile of hers he found adorable and that each time made his heart broaden.  
“Let’s go”, he invited her. She gestured him to wait a moment and took a cooler from the boot, then they started toward the house.  
“You can park in the garage, later”, he told her, “There’s place for other two cars, besides the one I rented.”  
The chalet was very large, being actually planned for six people.  
They went up the steps leading to the entrance door and finally got inside.  
The entryway was a small room with a coat rack on one wall, covered with matchboards in pinewood; they hung their parkas, then entered the living room, where a beautiful fire was burning merrily in the hearth in front of the couches; a large glass wall overlooked the snow-clad landscape.

  
“But it’s wonderful!”, Nives cried.  
“I thought alike when I entered here the first time”, Richard said, smiling, “I’m glad you like it: I recommended the agency it should be a romantic place.”  
“It is, indeed”, she confirmed, moving forward in the room, “I adore fireplaces…”  
“There’s one also in each bedroom”, he revealed, “You can turn it on and off through remote control, being actually a gas fireplace and the wood is fake.”  
“Really?”, Nives marvelled at it, “They look absolutely real!”, she claimed, getting nearer to check it out: behind the heap of fake wood, evidently made of incombustible material, she could see the gas jet, shaped so that the flames appeared realistic, “Fantastic, you have not even to bother with lighting the fire or chopping wood!”  
“I take you to see our bedroom”, Richard suggested, “then we can deal with lunch…”  
“Fine, but before let me put these things in the freezer...”  
Some days before, she told him she would bring the ingredients she needed to cook both for New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day, as well as some of her best dishes, and of course the wines fitting with them; therefore now the actor nodded and led her to the kitchen; the furniture was country-style, but there were all the modern appliances, included a large fridge with freezer. In the latter, Nives placed the meat and the seafood she prepared back at home and carried with ice in the cooler all the way to Cortina.  
Finally they went upstairs; entering in the bedroom, Nives looked around in wonder: a large king-sized bed, at its foot a small couch in front of a fireplace, and on the far end of the room, a large glass wall overlooking the same snow-clad landscape as the living room.

  
She went to look outside; Richard set down her suitcase beside the couch, then he went to hug her from behind.  
“Do you like it?”, he asked quietly.  
“It’s absolutely lovely”, Nives murmured, suddenly wanting to cry out of happiness, “Exactly like I imagined it…”, she turned in his arms and held him tightly, laying her head against his chest, “How can you manage to be so… so perfect?”, she asked, her voice cracking.  
Moved, he kissed her hair.  
“I’m not perfect… I just try to make you happy”, he whispered. She had to gulp a few times before being able to speak again.  
“You’re doing pretty well”, she said, then she glimpsed at the hearth, still out, “I always dreamt about making love in front of a burning fireplace…”  
Richard smiled:  
“Me, too”, he admitted. She blinked, then she rose her gaze to his:  
“Are you telling me you never did?”  
“Exactly”, he confirmed, “Not even acting”, he added, recalling the many love scenes he chanced to perform, but which never involved a fireplace, “And even so, it wouldn’t count”, he concluded chuckling.  
_Of course_ , Nives thought: one thing was his private life, another his job.  
He addressed her a smile, then after some moments, his gaze dropped to her lips. He felt an intense longing to kiss her desperately, but he knew instantly that, should he do it, he would lift her in his arms and take her to bed, tear off all of her clothes and make love to her until she screamed in utter pleasure. He swallowed two times, fighting the beast in his trousers, which had awakened forcefully.  
“Better… better I go back to the kitchen”, he said in a strangled voice, pulling away from her, “I’m seriously risking to make you skip lunch…”  
Nives felt breathless at this statement and her depths quivered; she had never felt so desired, and at the same time so respected, like now.  
“As for me, it’d be fine”, she whispered. Richard looked again at her lips, excruciatingly tempted; but he regained control over himself.  
“No”, he said, barely audible, “I don’t want to take you hurriedly, even if I’m crazy with longing for you… We have all the afternoon before us… and then the night, too…”, forcing himself to turn, he marched to the door, “I wait for you downstairs”, he concluded.  
Nives stayed there, staring at the closed door beyond which Richard had disappeared, feeling dazed and incredulous. Was this man truly real? And above all, was he truly _hers_? He was… too perfect, she had said it before and now she repeated it to herself.  
Shaking off those thoughts, she sent a text to her father to inform him she had arrived safe and sound, then she began to put away the clothes she brought, including a black evening dress for New Year’s eve. Her grandmother, excellent tailoress, had sewed it many years ago, but she never had the chance to wear it. She thought smiling that her grandma would have been very happy to learn she would wear it the first time for Richard Armitage.

Half an hour later, she went downstairs; she found Richard had already set the long pinewood table in the dining room. Seeing he was planning to prepare grilled prime ribs on the kitchen hearth, Nives went quickly outside to the car, from which se took the box with the red wines; when she got back in the house, she took a Cabernet and decanted it in a carafe.

  
“Why do you pour the wine?”, Richard asked, curious.  
“These kind of wines, very _structured_ as you call it in a technical language, must get some air to fully develop their aromas”, Nives explained, drawing from the notions she learned from her sommelier friends, “I you haven’t a decanter, you can use a normal carafe. Also aged wines must be aerated, and the older they are, the longer they must be. Once I opened a 12-years-old bottle an hour and a half before drinking it”, she concluded, recalling the episode occurred at a friend of hers, who had cooked expressly for this a roe deer roast.  
“And so I just learned another thing about wines”, she British actor smiled, “You’re an encyclopaedia”, he added. She laughed:  
“Once I seriously considered buying a t-shirt I saw, it had a writing saying _Fuck Google, ask me_!”  
“You should have done it”, Richard said laughing, “Sometimes I’m astonished about the incredible number of things you know.”  
Nives rose her hands in a denial gesture:  
“No, come on now… it’s just that I’m a very curious person and I collect information on all kind of things, often trifles, but intriguing me…”  
They went back to the kitchen, where Nives busied herself making a large bowl of salad, while Richard laid the bone-in ribs on the grill over the burning embers.  
“I need olive oil and vinegar”, she said, “I suppose there’s some in the standard supply of the chalet…”  
She looked quizzically at Richard; he remembered having seen the bottles in the sideboard and told her where she could find them, so she did the salad dressing.  
“Anything else I can do?”, she asked. The actor pointed to the oven, where segmented potatoes were roasting:  
“Could you please check the cooking?”  
She did.  
“They’re ready”, she announced.  
Richard nodded, then he turned the prime ribs one last time.  
“The butcher where I got these ribs recommended them rare”, he said, thinking back at the middle-aged man who, in his broken but comprehensible English, had suggested it, “but if you prefer it well-done, I’ll leave yours longer on the grill”, he added, looking at her quizzically.  
“No, rare is fine”, Nives confirmed, “If you grill them too much, they become tough.”  
Soon enough, they sat at the table and had their lunch, chitchatting pleasantly. Richard complimented Nives for her wine choice, which went perfectly with the tasty bone-in ribs. They finished their meal with an excellent coffee, which Nives prepared with the capsule coffee maker in the kitchen that Richard hadn’t used yet, because he just made his coffee with an instant blend he found at the supermarket; Nives turned her nose up at it.  
“I don’t like instant coffee”, she said, “except it’s a cold shake with ice in summer… In Italy, true coffee is only espresso”, she added, “or at least made with a _moka_ , that is the typical Italian coffee pot.”  
He nodded:  
“Yeah, I know. Lucas North had one”, he said, referring to his character in the TV series _Spooks_ , a secret agent of the MI-5.

  
“Right!”, Nives cried, recalling a scene she had seen.  
They drank their coffee, then they cleared the table and Richard, refusing Nives’ help, began to load the dishwasher; therefore she went to the living room. Once there, she looked around, then shook her head: what was she doing there? Much better if she went back to their bedroom and waited for her man, ready to make love.  
But how could she made him immediately clear she was upstairs waiting for him? A moment later she got an idea; feeling very impish, she took off her sweater and threw it on the floor beside the couch, then she went to the stairs leading to the first floor and, taking off her t-shirt, laid it on the first step. Then she climbed the stairs and, arriving at the top, put her bra on the handrail. She reached the bedroom and set her slippers in front of the door; finally she entered and took off the rest of her clothes, preparing to wait for Richard.

When he finished loading the dishwasher, without turning it on because it was still half-empty, Richard cleaned the grill where he cooked the meat and put it away; he couldn’t wait to be with Nives, but his mother taught him never lo leave the kitchen in a mess. He wondered if Nives would be offended if he asked her to go immediately to bed: earlier she had clearly said she was willing to skip lunch to make love with him immediately, but now he didn’t want to sound disrespectful: he knew she was a romantic woman and didn’t want to let her down in any way. Then he thought that it is never _what_ you ask, but _how_ : never take a woman for granted, or treat her like an object; instead, ask her anything making clear a no would be accepted, if it occurred, however regrettable. A real man can manage a woman’s rejection, even if he isn’t able to understand her reasons. Too many men forget this, he concluded by himself, shaking his head: he thought this completely inexplicable. He remembered he acted exactly like this, in Venice, allowing Nives to choose freely; and he gained the best _first time_ in his life.  
Finally he was finished tidying up the kitchen and went to the living room, but there was no trace of Nives. He felt at a loss for a moment, then he noticed her sweater on the floor near the couch; he picked it up, while an idea arose in his mind regarding her whereabouts. Turning, he saw the t-shirt on the first step of the stairs and he realised Nives’ intentions. He smirked, thinking he had an _extraordinary_ woman. He picked up also this garment, then the bra he found when he arrived upstairs, and finally the slippers. He stopped for a moment to look at the door, beyond which he knew he was awaited; finally, while his smirk widened in a full smile, he turned the knob and entered.


	3. Chapter III: Monday, December 29th, 2014 afternoon and evening

 

Chapter III: Monday, December 29th, 2014 afternoon and evening

Richard opened the door and found the room empty, but the sound of running water in the bathroom reassured him immediately on Nives’ whereabouts. Looking at the fireplace, an idea struck him, making him smile happily, because he could realise yet another of Nives’ dreams. He took the remote and lighted the fire, then he moved the couch, grabbed the duvet and took it off the bed, laying it out on the floor between it and the fireplace, and finally took the greater part of the cushions, scattering them on the duvet, therefore creating a true love nest where he and Nives could lie down. Then he closed the curtains, dimming the light in the room so that the fire would stand out.  
Knowing how much she loved to see him with an open shirt, he stripped his upper body, putting on again only his shirt but leaving it completely unbuttoned; finally he took off his shoes and socks, sat on the couch and crossed his legs, placing an ankle on the opposite knee.

  
A few moments later, the pounding of the shower stopped and he imagined Nives exiting the box, naked and wet. This thought turned his mouth dry and he was tempted to get up and go taking her immediately, but he restrained himself; a naughty smirk lifted the corners of his mouth, imagining Nives’ face when she would come back into the room.  
Meanwhile in the bathroom, Nives was drying off; she was planning to wait for Richard just in her bathrobe, with nothing under it, and a mischievous smile appeared on her lips. She had no idea he was already waiting for her, with that same grin on his face.  
She let down her hair, which she had pinned on her head in order not to wet it while showering, and brushed them quickly, then she used a drop of her usual perfume, white musk and vanilla, now indissolubly related to Richard. Finally, she opened the door… and froze on the threshold.  
Sitting on the couch, Richard was smiling at her in his sexy way, making her hormones spin around like crazy when she saw it in a photo, let alone live. She felt her feminine depths quiver; how was it possible for this man to turn her on just by looking at her?, she wondered, dazzled.  
Seeing her frozen on the spot, Richard stared at her even more intensely and reached out to her, clearly inviting her to come near to him.  
Like hypnotised by his smouldering stare, Nives moved forward into the room, unaware her stare, equally smouldering, was making his blood boil; he stood up and moved toward her, passing over the duvet lying on the floor.  
“Do you like the way I arranged the room?”, he asked softly. The sound of his baritone voice, so sensual, sent her heart into v-fib.  
“Very much”, she answered, equally softly. He reached for her shoulders, but instead of pulling her to him, he slipped his hands downward, caressing her arms, and then intertwined his fingers with hers and brought them to his lips, kissing them one by one. Recalling the tip of her ring finger was especially sensitive, he brushed it with his tongue and heard her holding her breath.  
“I love you, Nives”, he whispered, kissing the palm of her hand, “more than the entire world…”  
She closed her eyes, overwhelmed, as usual unable to truly believe her luck: was it, oh was it really Richard Armitage, the man of her impossible love dreams, the one telling her those sweet words? Looking at her with tender and at the same time hungry eyes, at the point she felt literally melting?  
She looked at him.  
“Oh, Richard…”, she whispered, “I love you more than the entire world, me too…”  
Wishing to show it to him tangibly, she freed her hands and placed them on his chest, caressing him softly; she drew circles along the shape of his pectorals and around his nipples, then she slipped her hands on his shoulders, under his shirt, pushing it aside and down his arms. He let her have her way and the garment fell on the floor; he moved his hands to the belt closing her bathrobe, but she shook her head. Impatiently, she unbuckled his belt, opened it, unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zip, slipping a hand inside to touch him. Richard winced and uttered a soft cry of pleasure in feeling her caressing him intimately; he pressed himself into her rousing hand and panted:  
“Oh baby…!”  
His clothes were hindering her to touch him the way she wanted to; she hooked his jeans and brief boxers with her thumbs, pulling them down and freeing his erection, and slipped them along his legs to the floor. Richard took out one foot, then used the other to kick off the clothes and stood in front of her completely naked, glorious like a Greek statue. Nives held her breath in admiration; then she reached out for the sceptre of his manhood, closing her fingers around it and caressing it in his full length, from the base to the tip and back. Richard groaned and closed his eyes, enjoying her ministrations. _What a woman!,_ he tought, _so passionate but also so sweet… thousand times better than chocolate ice cream…_ the idea to taste her, as he promised to do only a few days back, made his mouth literally watering. He felt becoming even harder for her and knew he couldn’t wait any longer.  
Thinking she had exasperated enough his longing, Nives stepped back, untied the knot closing her belt and let the bathrobe slip down on the floor, standing there completely naked. Richard’s gaze was irresistibly drawn downwards, to admire Nives’ lovely shape.  
“You’re gorgeous”, he murmured hoarsely. She knew she wasn’t _gorgeous_ at all, not objectively – at the most, she could tell herself _attractive_ ; but she was happy he thought she was, and that was all that really mattered. Under his avid stare, she felt going up in flames; she couldn’t wait much longer. She reached out to him in such an inviting gesture, he automatically stepped forward and pressed her against him, feeling all her soft curves; bending down, he placed his lips on hers, finding them already parted and ready for the kiss. Each time he felt electrified by her responding with such enthusiasm to his solicitations; her sensuality was spontaneous and genuine and reflected her effusive and sincere personality. She never acted with hidden agendas or for her personal gain, and he adored her for this, too.  
He caressed her tongue with his, slowly, savouring the sweetness of her mouth; at the same time, his hands slid down her body, on her beautiful buttocks; he couldn’t resist and pressed her harder against his body.  
Feeling his stiffness against her belly, Nives responded by moving her hips and rubbing herself on him, making him groan aloud.  
“I want you, Nives”, Richard gasped against her lips, “I need you…”  
“And I need _you_ ”, she sighed. Taking her by surprise, he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the duvet, where he laid her down, making sure she put her head on a pillow. The fire was cheerfully crackling in the hearth, wrapping the two lovers in its warmth and orange light and creating an irresistibly romantic atmosphere.  
“I adore being skin to skin with you”, whispered Richard, placing his lips on her neck. Nives threw her head backwards, relishing the touch of his mouth on the sensitive area of her throat.  
“Me too…”, she whispered back. Then Richard’s hands slipped down on her breasts, caressing them and tormenting deliciously the erected nipples; shivers of pleasure travelled from there straight to the centre of her body, making her pant hard. Then lips and tongue followed the hand, closing around one hard bud, licking and sucking. Nives sighed, while a hot rush shot through her. She felt unbearably hot, and the cause for sure wasn't the fire burning in the hearth. She grabbed Richard’s shoulders, her eyes closed, offering herself to his touch; encouraged, he moved his hands downward, following the curve of her hips, along the thighs, while his lips progressed in an unbroken chain of small kisses from her breasts to her tummy. He slipped one hand between her knees and she readily accepted his unspoken invitation, parting them. Excruciatingly slowly, his lovingly fingers climbed the inside of her thighs, while his lips went lower and lower, until they arrived to the dark triangle shadowing her femininity. At the very moment Richard’s fingers finally touched her most sensitive spot, Nives trembled and moaned; but she didn’t know the half of it, because soon after his lips took the place of his fingers, stroking and teasing and making her moan louder; slowly, Richard introduced one digit inside of her, then he curled it in search of that special, half legendary spot that only a few are able to find. It took him two tries, but the third was successful, as Nives’ uncontrollable start and her unarticulated cry revealed him clearly.  
Stimulated at the same time on two extremely sensitive spots, she felt her depths blazing up in a fire and wheezed, breathless; she was so excited, it would take her very little to reach the apex.  
Aware he was taking her over the top too soon, Richard slowed down, then took away his finger; before pulling back, recalling the promise he made her some days before, he savoured her deeply, tearing off of her more unrestrainable pants and moans. Finally, he drew back and climbed up her body in a long series of small kisses, until he reached her lips, brushing them tenderly with his.  
“You’ll be the death of me…”, Nives whispered, reciprocating his kiss, “but I _know_ how to seek revenge…”, she threatened him with a naughty smile, grabbing him by his shoulders and tipping him over on his back. Of course, should he resist, she would never manage it, but he let her have her way with him, laying down beside her on the quilt.  
Nives kissed his lips, caressing his chest; Richard wrapped his arms around her, slipping his hands under her dark hair, strewing out on her back, and stroking her skin. He felt her shuddering and smiled inwardly: he knew how much she liked being touched on her back.  
Nives bent down to kiss his neck, stopping one moment on the small mole under his right jaw; then she straddled him, wrapping her legs around his waist and pushing the warm centre of her body against his abdomen; straightening, she sat up and watched him with a sexy look. Richard felt breathless: feeling the damp evidence of Nives’ excitation on his belly and looking at her from this perspective, where she appeared to him simply stunning, almost made him loose his head. Unable to keep his hands idle, he placed them on her breasts, cupping and gently squeezing them, and then brushed his thumbs on her upraised nipples. She whimpered hoarsely and grabbed his hands, stopping him.  
“No…”, she admonished him, “Now it’s my turn.”  
She moved lower, brushing his manhood with her femininity but not lingering, and then bent down on him again. She moved her hair on one side so it wouldn’t hinder her, then placed her mouth on Richard’s throat, exactly at the base, from where she went further down to kiss his chest. She teased his flat nipples with her tongue, nipping them tenderly, then she went even further down, on his abdomen, caressing it with her hands and then with her lips; she lingered on his belly button, stilling her hands, but only for a few moments, because immediately after she followed the path of hair leading to her aim, Richard’s virile symbol, around which she closed her fingers. As before, she stroked him on his full length, firmly, and he sighed in pleasure; then she bent down and used her mouth. Richard uttered a soft cry; exquisitely tortured to an unbearable point, he thought that, should she go on like this, in one minute he would explode. He was about to beg her to stop, but she was spying his face and, realising he was almost to his limits, she left him; she straightened up again, straddling him, then she grasped his shaft, positioned it against her and finally descended, making him slip inside her body. Both whimpered in pleasure feeling again together, united in the most complete way allowed to human beings, flesh and soul, senses and sentiments entwined and indistinguishable, because complementary to one another.  
Looking into his eyes, exactly the same way he always did, Nives began to thrust her pelvis; her experience as a belly dancer made her movements harmonious and precise, increasing pleasure for both of them. Oscillating back and forth, she found the most satisfying position and increased her moves. Richard took her hands and kissed them, reverently, then he placed them to his chest so she could steady herself and grabbed her hips. In this position, it was her the one directing the love dance and he adjusted, rising his pelvis to meet her movements.

  
Eye to eye, like incandescent ice Richard’s, like steaming chocolate Nives’; flesh in flesh, heart in heart. Thrust after thrust, pleasure grew and rose, spreading inside of them, expanding, increasing more and more while their bodies slid one in the other, rose further, until it reached the top and, like a wave, swamped them irresistibly away. Nives felt her depths burst violently and threw her head back, uttering a sexy love cry which Richard enjoyed as much as her spasms around him; with a low, reverberating groan, he emptied himself inside of her, shuddering uncontrollably.  
Slowly, their tremors calmed down; for a long minute, they stayed still, like frozen in marvel, then Nives relaxed on Richard’s chest, hot and breathless. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight, elated, and grateful to his destiny that had granted him to meet the woman with whom he, finally, felt complete.

It was almost six o’clock in the evening when Nives and Richard re-emerged from their room and went downstairs. The actor led her to see the spa, located next to the garage but on the opposite side of the chalet, a room divided in three spaces: a steam bath with aromatherapy, completely tiled in light and dark blue majolica, a small herbal sauna, fully in wood, the ceiling covered with small lights changing colour for chromotherapy, and the relaxing room with six deck chairs and a Jacuzzi, overlooking the snow-covered landscape in front of the chalet. Everything was bathed in a soft light and there were many candles, placed there if one wanted to create an even more relaxing atmosphere.  
“Wonderful!”, Nives commented, enthusiastic. Richard showed her the simple procedure to power on the facility; it was possible to input a daily schedule, and estimating the timing of the next day, she programmed it so that she could find it ready for the next afternoon at 14.00.  
When they got back to the living room, they watched TV sitting on the couch, Nives crouching next to Richard, who set his arms around her shoulders. They roamed a bit the satellite broadcasters in English and finally Richard stopped on one:  
“ _Doctor Who_ ”, he said, “I know you like science-fiction…”  
“Indeed”, she confirmed, “and I like _Doctor Who_ very much, especially the one performed by that actor who always widens his eyes, how’s his name…?, oh yes, David Tennant”, then she glimpsed at the man sitting beside her, “I’d _adore_ you being his next performer!”  
“Really?”, he asked, smiling, “Well, I’ll tell my agent to submit my name to the producers, so that they can consider it, when they’ll decide for the thirteenth regeneration…”  
Nives sobered instantly:  
“Hey, I was only joking! I’d love it, for sure, but I wouldn’t dream of asking you to perform a role just because I like it…”  
“I know”, he reassured her, struck by her vehemence, “I wouldn’t do it just for your sake, but for mine, too: the Doctor is an iconic character of the British television and I’d be very pleased to perform him.”  
“I bet you’d make him rather _moody_ ”, Nives laughed, referring to the fact that most of the characters he performed – Gisborne, Porter, Thorin, Proctor – where quite grouchy, if not even gloomy.  
“Maybe”, the British actor admitted, “But you, how would you like me to portray him?”  
She sobered again.  
“In the way you feel most apt to you”, she replied, then she added in a falsely naïve way, “In any case – moody or humorous, cynical or romantic – in my opinion, you’d be the sexiest Doctor ever…”  
Richard resumed his _adorkable_ face that made her smile, touched: plainly, he would never get truly used being considered a sexy man.  
“Changing the subject…”, she pondered, “What would you say about pizza, tonight?”, she suggested, “We can have it delivered here, so we won't have to go out.”  
“Good idea!”, Richard approved, recalling the delicious pizza they had in Venice.  
“Let’s find a pizzeria making home delivery, then”, Nives said, standing up to go getting her mobile phone, “Is there a wi-fi, here?”, she asked.  
“Yeah, I'll give you the password”, Richard answered, standing up in turn. After a short research, Nives found the pizzeria suiting them; when she called, she asked for local ingredients and, basing on what they told her and on what they liked most, she ordered: for Richard, a pizza with _tosella_ cheese and _sopressa_ sausage, and for her one with smoked _ricotta_ cheese and grilled vegetables.  
“They’ll arrive in 40 minutes”, she said, after hanging up.  
“Let’s set the table”, Richard suggested, heading for the dining room. In the cupboard, he found large dishes apt for pizza, while Nives went to the kitchen to select the wine. She came back with a bottle and placed it on the table.  
“Did you stock up enough wine for the whole stay?”, Richard asked, grinning.  
“Sure”, she confirmed, laughing, while uncorking the bottle, “This is the box of the red ones, in the car there’s another box with the white ones. And if they’re not enough, I’ll go and buy more in the nearest wine shop.”  
“Do you want to get me drunk?”, Richard enquired, jestingly.  
“Absolutely not”, she denied, shaking her head, “I’ll make you drink the right quantity, never too much, and above all, I’ll make you drink good wines”, she concluded firmly, lightening the mood with a smile.  
“I’ve got no doubts”, the British actor confirmed, “Would you describe to me the one you chose for tonight?”  
“It’s a wine of very ancient origin, dating back even before Romans”, Nives told him, “It’s called Rabosello; slightly sparkling and smelling of violets and cherry, it’s dry and somewhat zesty.”  
“You sound like a professional sommelier”, he said, struck. She made a gesture as to brush aside his compliment:  
“All thanks to some friends of mine, who taught me many things; but compared to them, I’m just a beginner.”  
“Thank you very much!”, Richard laughed, “If you’re a beginner, I’d like to hear your friends, then!”  
“They could talk of wines literally for hours”, she warned him, then she reminded something, “While we’re waiting, I go and take the car in the garage. Could you come with me, so we finish unloading? Besides the white wines, there’s another box with the ingredients for New Year’s Eve dinner and New Year’s Day lunch.”  
“I think you’re going to feed me to death”, Richard laughed.  
“You won’t certainly stay hungry”, Nives assured, laughing with him.  
They put on their parkas and exited, Richard taking with him the remote to open the garage door. They got in the car and swiftly entered, then Richard took the box with the food, which was rather voluminous, while Nives carried the one with the white wines. They got back into the house passing through the inner door, going from the garage to the living room.  
They went to the kitchen, where Richard, by Nives’ bidding, turned on the oven, because the pizzas, even with the quickest delivery service, wouldn’t be as hot as right out of the wood-oven.  
When Nives had finished storing the bottles in the large fridge, Richard handed her what food got into the pantry. The sweets drew immediately his attention, particularly the dark chocolate Lindor pralines.  
“May I eat one?”, he asked hopefully.  
“Sure you can”, Nives approved, opening the box. While they savoured the pralines, which in Nives’ opinion were the best of the world – she brought them for this reason – they finished putting away the food. Noticing the quantity of the latter, Richard put on a fake worried face:  
“Hum… I think I need to ski very hard, in order to burn off all the calories, or else I’ll got too fat and the producers of _Hannibal_ will fire me!”, he laughed; Nives cast him a surprised glance, “Oh, I didn’t tell you yet: yesterday I received an offer to play a part in the series, for a six-episode storyline.”  
“I don’t watch that series”, she said, wrinkling her nose, “Far too horror for my tastes… What kind of a role is it?”  
“A serial killer…”  
Richard stopped mid-phrase seeing Nives bringing her hand to her mouth and making a definitely shocked face.  
“Dear Goddess… really?”  
“Yes… it’s a very gloomy role, I admit, but I’ve never played the villain beyond redemption and I’d like to take the challenge. Don’t you… approve?”  
He was worried; when they suggested him this role, he got excited, because it represented a challenge to him as an actor and he loved it to confront with hard characters. He performed other villains, such as Guy of Gisborne and John Bateman, Lucas North’s alter ego in _Spooks_ , but in both cases, in the end he redeemed himself, while this time, he wasn’t supposed to. But he didn’t think such a role could displease Nives, and displeasing her was the last thing he wanted.  
“If I approve?”, she repeated, marvelling, “Love, no… We just talked about _Doctor Who_ , and like it’s not for me to suggest you a role to perform, as much it’s not for me to suggest you which one not to perform! I wouldn’t dream of telling you which roles you should accept and which ones not… it’s just that… you’re my romantic hero – Thornton, Guy, Porter, Thorin – and I can’t imagine you playing a ruthless murderer… I got chills when I saw you perform John Bateman’s character, let alone a serial killer…”, she shook her head, “But don’t even think to refuse it because I don’t like the idea very much! It’s surely a great opportunity to introduce yourself to the American audience, which is good for future hires. Besides, I understand that, for you as an actor, this is an opportunity to confront with something you never did before…”, she realised he was still worried and therefore she got near him, looking into his eyes, “Any job you’ll accept because you like it, you’ll _always_ have my support: I demand – and I say I _demand_ – you to believe me”, she concluded in a low and final tone, “Have. I. Made. Myself. Clear?”, she spelled.  
Richard never heard her before expressing herself with such a ferocious determination and realised not only she was being sincere, but also, should he now refuse the role, she would be more displeased than if he would accept it.  
“Fine”, he yielded, taking her into his arms and holding her lovingly, “You’re _amazing_ ”, he whispered in her ear. Nives reciprocated his embrace, moved.  
“It’s not official yet”, the actor said, “because I haven’t signed the contract so far, but I’ll do it when I go home from this vacation. They’ll announce it immediately after.”  
“You can count on my discretion”, Nives assured him.  
At that moment, the doorbell rang.  
“Pizzas are here”, she guessed.  
“I go get them”, said Richard.  
“Oh no”, she stopped him, “You risk to make the poor boy having a heart arrack, standing before almost 1,90 metre of Richard Armitage alias Thorin Oakenshield and then maybe he goes blabbing around half the world you’re here, and so farewell to our quiet stay…”  
“You’re right”, he admitted, making a funny face, “The price of fame… At least, on the ski slopes, with helmet and goggles, nobody recognises me”, he added.  
Nives took her wallet from the purse, which still was on the coffee table since the moment she had arrived, and took care of the pizzas, then she came back to the kitchen with the boxes. The oven was very large and they were able to place both pizzas in it in order to heat them up before taking them to the dining room; finally, they sat at the table.  
“Usually I drink beer, with pizza”, Richard said, remembering that, even in Venice, they drank wine with it, “but I must admit that it fits well with wine.”  
“Actually, drinking beer with pizza isn’t an Italian custom”, she revealed, “Pizza has been invented in Naples, and there it always goes with wine.”  
“I’ve never thought about it”, he admitted, then they began to eat, “This pizza is delicious”, he said, taking a mouthful and chewing with the satisfied face of a big boy that made Nives laugh.  
After dinner, they cleared the table; this time Richard allowed her to help him and, after loading and turning on the dishwasher, they went to the living room. Instead of coffee, Nives prepared a digestive infusion she brought from home, a mixture of five herbs she bought by an herbalist’s shop; it had a tasteful aroma and Richard appreciated it much, even if he usually didn’t like infusions much.  
Putting down his empty cup, Richard stood up.  
“I’ll be back immediately”, he said. Nives looked at him in surprise, but nodded and stayed in her chair.  
Richard exited the room and went upstairs, entering in one of the rooms they didn’t use, where he had hidden his surprise gift for his woman.  
Meanwhile, Nives was racking her brains about what he has plotting, but not having any clue, she didn’t come to any conclusion. The mystery was immediately solved when he returned, carrying a small pack wrapped in a brightly coloured paper.  
“My true Christmas gift for you”, Richard smiled, handing it over to Nives. She accepted it, her eyes widening out of joy and surprise.  
“But… I didn’t buy you anything…”, she complained faintly.  
“And you think I care about it?”, he silenced her gently.  
Nives sighed; for years now, she didn’t buy any Christmas gifts, except for her godson and goddaughter, therefore she didn’t think about getting one for Richard. As she couldn’t fix it anymore, she temporarily set it aside and began to unwrap the packet, finding a red box; the famous Apple brand was printed in silver on the cover. When she opened it, she found an iPod touch, the latest 64 megabyte model, the top of the range.  
“Unfortunately they don’t have it green”, Richard said, referring to her favourite colour, “therefore I chose it red because in this version, Apple donates a part of the proceeds to charity, fighting AIDS in Africa.”  
This was so typically Richard – who cared about many charities – that Nives felt a lump in her throat.  
“You remembered me complaining that mine is too small”, she whispered. That one had been a birthday gift of her friends, a few years ago; it had 8 megabytes capacity and was always full to its maximum.  
Richard smiled lovingly at her obvious emotion.  
“Open it and look at the backside”, he invited her. She obeyed, opening the package and taking out the device, then she turned it to look at the rear side. There was a writing imprinted in the hull: _With all my love, Richard_. A very simple sentence, as was his style, but heartfelt.  
“Armitage, you always manage to leave me speechless…”, she muttered, then she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him fervently. He held her tight and parted his lips, accepting eagerly her kiss.  
“I’m sorry I’ve got nothing to reciprocate your gift”, she told him, reiterating her displeasure.  
“No, you’ve got _everything_ ”, he contradicted her, then he bent down and whispered in her ear, “All I want for Christmas is you.”  
That was a famous song by Mariah Carey. Overwhelmed, Nives felt tears welling up in her eyes; she tried to stop them, but failed and two big drops escaped her eyes. Trying to hide them, she clung to Richard’s shoulders and buried her face in his chest, but he had already seen them. He placed a finger under her chin and kissed her wet cheekbones.  
“Never be ashamed of crying in front of me”, he said in a low voice, kissing her face over and over, “especially if it’s out of joy like, I hope, now.”  
“Yes…”, she sobbed, “…joy…”  
Then she stopped talking because Richard sealed her mouth with a sweet kiss.  
When she finally was able to speak again, Nives watched him smiling:  
“What do you say about retiring for the night…?”  
“Excellent idea…”


	4. Chapter IV: Tuesday, December 30th, 2014

 

Chapter IV: Tuesday, December 30th, 2014

On Cortina, the sun had risen in a clear sky like the one you can see only on the mountains in winter; but in the chalet that a famous British actor had rented, the two occupants didn’t notice it, nor did they care about it.  
Richard kissed Nives, collapsed on the bed under him, her long hair scattered on the pillow around her head. He was still inside of her, after their lovemaking, and he had no wish to pull away.  
Nives heard her blood roaring in her ears; she was wheezing. Richard had made love to her with such an exquisite skill, she was left literally breathless, at the point that, in the culminating moment, she hadn’t even been able to scream. For a moment, everything had gone dark and only the overwhelming pleasure he was giving to her had existed.  
Slowly, she relaxed, while her frantic heartbeat was going back to normality. She realised she had dug her nails into his back and quickly stretched her fingers.  
“Did… did I scratch you?”, she asked, weakly.  
“A little bit”, he chuckled. Nives widened her eyes, alarmed.  
“O Goddess, did I hurt you?”  
Richard kissed the tip of her nose.  
“Absolutely not”, he reassured her, “on the contrary, you made me feel great…”  
She couldn’t help but giggle.  
“You’re terrible”, she grumbled, “You… you literally blew my mind…”  
“That’s indeed what I hoped to achieve”, the actor grinned, feeling very flattered. He thought he never felt a bigger satisfaction, in all his life, than making Nives completely lose control.  
She closed her eyes, flabbergasted, completely unable to believe that this fantastic man was truly hers. Then she opened them again, her gaze still dreamy because of pleasure, but with a dangerous spark deep down.  
“What goes around, comes around”, she murmured. Amusement glittered in Richard’s bright eyes:  
“Is it a threat?”  
“You can bet on it, Armitage…”  
“Mmmmhhh, I can’t wait…”  
She giggled:  
“Not so fast, cheeky boy: I’ll catch you when least you expect it!”  
In response, he just kissed her again, slowly, deeply.  
“I’m at your complete disposal, in every moment…”

They got up and dressed around 11 o’clock, he already wearing his ski gear, then they went downstairs to the kitchen, where they had brunch: bread, soft cheese, honey, eggs, cereals, yogurt, stuffed cookies, coffee and orange juice. When they finished, Richard was about to help Nives to clear the table, but she shooed him off, not without giving him some pralines as an energy supply.  
“Go and have fun skiing”, she exhorted him smiling, “This was the deal, remember? I have all the time to clean and then I’ll go down to the spa and relax. Should you come back and not see me, come and get me: I could be lost in Wilderland”, she concluded chuckling. She was referring to The Lord of the Rings, which she was reading for the 21st time.  
“Agreed”, Richard accepted, pulling her to him and kissing her tenderly, “I love you, my sweet Italian girl…”  
“Me too, I love you, my handsome British boy”, she whispered, ecstatic like every time she heard him say it; she adored him because he never forgot to repeat it, exactly as she had asked him in Venice. Then she pushed him resolutely toward the door.  
Richard addressed her another loving gaze, then he turned and went to the garage, thinking that no woman in the world could be more perfect for him, than Nives Nardini. Who would have thought it, when he accepted to work in The Crucible, that precisely at the Old Vic he would meet his other half? Being a believer, even if lapsed, he thanked God for the opportunity he was given, which had completed for good the meaning of his life.  
Smiling, he checked quickly his ski stuff, then he got in the car and started for the ski slopes.

Nives loaded the dishwasher, but didn’t start it, being it far from full, and she hated waste. As she had just eaten, she wouldn’t go immediately to the spa, therefore in the meantime she called her father to make sure he was fine. Luigi reassured her and confirmed he would go to Francesca and Livio, her goddaughter’s parents, to spend New Year’s Eve, as they had agreed before she left.  
“And Riccardo, is he treating you right?”, he enquired. Not being able to memorize the English diction, too strange for him, Luigi had decided to adopt the Italian version of the British actor’s name.  
“Like a queen”, Nives answered, smiling and feeling overjoyed.  
After talking to her father, she laid down on the couch with a coverlet on her legs and read her book. When time arrived, she went upstairs to change, donning a tiny burgundy bikini she usually wore going to the spa near home; she pinned her hair in a bun high on her head, put on her bathrobe and slipped in her flip-flops. Carrying a large microfiber pool towel, she went to the spa, where she relaxed for a couple of hours, enjoying the pleasurable warmth of the sauna, smelling of alpine herbs, the balsamic vapours of the steam bath and the lukewarm water of the small pool where, in a corner, there were seats for the Jacuzzi. In between these things, she relaxed on a pool chair, diving in Middle-earth. The first time she had read The Lord of the Rings, she was sixteen years old and she had fallen in love immediately with the Tolkienverse, and when the movies had arrived, she was over the moon. She had always liked less The Hobbit, but on the arrival of the second trilogy by Peter Jackson and the meeting – initially only virtual – with Richard Armitage, she had re-evaluated the novel.

  
She heard a car arriving; realising Richard was back, she wrapped herself in her bathrobe, turned off the device and got upstairs, just in time to see him coming in through the door from the garage.  
“Welcome back”, she said smiling, “How was it?”  
“Very good”, he answered enthusiastically, “Yesterday I fell on a difficult point, but today I made it easily, so I’m satisfied”, he concluded, pulling her close and kissing her on her lips, “And how was your afternoon?”  
“I relaxed in the spa, as planned”, she answered, “Hey, you feel ice-cold… would you like a hot infusion?”  
“Yes, thanks”, he answered, “but first I’ll take a nice hot shower.”  
“Good idea, I don’t want you catching a cold…”  
“I’ve no intention to… I want to be in tip-top shape for you!”, he cried.  
While he was going upstairs, Nives put the kettle on the stove; when the water was ready, she poured it on the chosen blend, which resembled mulled wine because it blended cinnamon, cloves and orange peel with dried crumbs of apricots and pineapple. She left spices and fruits in infusion and went upstairs to change; she heard the shower in the bathroom and knew her man was there. Smiling inwardly, she quickly dressed, then went back downstairs and lighted the fireplace in the living room. A few minutes later, Richard arrived.  
“Here you are”, she smiled at him, getting up from the couch where she was reading, “Take a seat, the infusion’s ready.”  
He sat and she went to the kitchen, where she poured the hot beverage in two cups, then she got back and sat next to Richard, handing him his cup. The actor inhaled the fragrance emanating from it and then took a sip.  
“Delicious”, he said, drinking more, “You like infusions very much, don’t you?”  
“I adore them”, she admitted smiling, “At home, I’ve got always at least twenty different types, counting teas, medicinal herbs and various blends. I believe very much in phytotherapy, I use it whenever possible.”  
“Natural medicine is being more and more re-evaluated even by official medicine”, he nodded, then his eyes fell on the book Nives was reading, “How far are you?”  
“Lothlórien”, she answered, then she got an idea, “Would you read for me one of my favourite passages? I’d love to hear it from your wonderful voice…”  
Richard smiled, flattered: no compliment was more important to him like Nives’.  
“Gladly”, he said, “Which one?”  
“Éowyn and Merry versus the Witch-king, during the Battle of the Pelennor Fields”, she answered, mentioning her absolute favourite scene; she took the book and searched for the right page, then she handed it to Richard, who took it.  
“Give me some moments to study it”, he asked her, while his eyes were already roaming the concerning lines. Nives waited, full of excited expectation.  
She wasn’t disappointed: Richard performed, rather than just reading, the passage where the brave, desperate Éowyn fought with ferocious determination against an apparently invincible opponent, the terrible Witch-king, who following Glorfindel’s prophecy no Man could kill; but she wasn’t a man, she was a woman, and with the help of the valiant Hobbit Meriadoc Brandybuck she was finally able to overcome her appalling antagonist. At the sentence, referred to Merry, and suddenly the slow-kindled courage of his race awoke, Nives felt tears welling up in her eyes and let them flow, even to make Richard know how much she felt impressed by his performance, exactly like she did the evening, now over three and a half months back, in London, at the Old Vic, during The Crucible.  
Seeing her, Richard felt deeply moved and only his strict professional discipline prevented his voice to crack, making him unable to continue the reading to its end.  
When he put down the book, Nives wiped her eyes and whispered:  
“You’re simply awesome…”  
He didn’t think he had done anything special: after all, it was prose – even if of remarkable artistic value – not a sonnet by Emerson or a play by Shakespeare.  
“Thank you”, she said, again whispering; then she took the book, placing it on the coffee table, and sat in his lap; she held him tight and kissed him sweetly.  
Richard held her in turn and reciprocated her kiss with the same tenderness. He adored her kisses, he thought, he never had enough; in the same way, he never had enough of holding her, be it to make love or not, simply to feel her warmth against his body. He thought – no, he knew – he had never loved this way, so totally and unconditionally, before meeting Nives.  
“I love you, Richard… more than I ever thought it possible to love someone…”, Nives sighed against his lips, “I’m almost scared…”  
Utterly struck that, again, there had been a kind of telepathic exchange between them, Richard laid her back down on the couch and kissed her deeply, sweetly.  
“I love you, too”, he whispered, “like never before in my life…”, he kissed her again, “My heart is yours…”  
They went on kissing for some time, cuddling tenderly; after a while, Richard’s stomach grumbled loudly. Nives giggled.  
“Whoops!”, he cried, vaguely embarrassed because he had just ruined a romantic moment that could go into something much hotter.  
“Man, you urgently need to be fed”, she teased him, pushing him away, “Let me prepare dinner… Tonight, penne all’arrabbiata”, she announced. Richard of course didn’t understand the Italian phrasing, so she translated it in penne with hot sauce.  
“Not too hot for me, please”, Richard said.  
“How’s it for you Mexican cuisine?”, Nives enquired, in order to better understand the level of hotness he meant.  
“I think it’s savoury, as long as you don’t exaggerate with chili or tabasco sauce.”  
“Fine, then I adjust it on this; if you’ll prefer it hotter than I’ll cook it, you can add more chilli pepper directly in your dish.”  
Nives busied herself in the kitchen, while Richard set the table. When the sauce was ready, she turned off the stove; meantime, water had began to boil, therefore she threw in the pasta. Afterwards, she chose the wine, this time a Pinot noir; Richard was glad, being it his favourite wine, but also a little surprised.  
“I think you told me that with pasta, white wine is better”, he said, perplexed, referring to one of their conversations about wines via Skype.  
“So is it, usually, but sometimes there are exceptions, like this one”, she answered smiling, “It happens even with seafood.”  
“Really?”, he marvelled.  
“Yeah… a fish soup called caciucco, for instance, or…”, she struggled for a satisfactory translation, “stockfish cooked in oil and milk, typical of my area, called baccalà alla vicentina”, she concluded.  
“Oil and milk?”, Richard wondered.  
“It’s an odd match, I know”, she admitted, amused by his amazement, “but I assure you, it’s delicious. My dad is very good at cooking it.”  
“Well, this means that, when I’ll meet him, you’ll ask him to cook it for me”, he smiled. Nives felt her heart up her throat.  
“You really want to come and meet my father?”, she asked in an undertone.  
“Sure”, the British actor confirmed, “You’ve already met my parents, haven’t you? And my brother Chris and my sister-in-law are very curious to get to know you.”  
“Ah… goodness… me too, I’d like to meet them, for sure”, she said, smiling, “I just hope they’ll like me as, I think, your parents do…”, she added, hesitantly.  
“They do”, Richard assured her, brushing her cheek in a caress, “I love you, and therefore they, too, love you.”  
Nives smiled at him, reassured but still a little uncertain. With both her ex parents-in-law and sister-in-law she had been very lucky, because they had loved her dearly; she hoped she was going to be lucky again with the Armitage family, but of course, she couldn’t be sure of it: after all, one cannot expect to please everyone else…  
For his part, Richard, too, was vaguely concerned, at the idea to meet Nives’ father; he knew he was very protective toward his daughter. All fathers are, usually, but Luigi maybe was even more, because of the terrible heartbreak Nives had suffered in the past.  
He took Nives’ hand and kissed it; then, thinking it not enough, he pulled her close and kissed her. She held him tight and returned the kiss.  
For some minutes, they exchanged tender and at the same time passionate kisses, until the alarm told them that the pasta was ready.  
“It’s almost ready”, Nives announced, pulling reluctantly away from Richard, “Could you take the cheese, please? The hard grateable one…”  
“Parmesan?”, he asked, opening the fridge.  
“No, that’s just an imitation; the original is called parmigiano reggiano, but I use the Venetian version, that is grana padano”, Nives explained, while using a fork to taste the pasta, “Would you please grate it?”  
“Sure.”  
The pasta was almost ready, therefore Nives placed the dishes in the microwave in order to warm them and put the sauce back again on the stove. When two minutes later the pasta was ready, she drained it and put it on the pan with the hot sauce, stirring carefully. Meanwhile, Richard was finished grating the cheese and had transferred it in a small bowl, getting it to the table. Nives prepared the dishes and followed him into the dining room, where she found him pouring wine in their glasses.  
They sat and ate, chitchatting pleasantly, and after this, they tidied up everything, loading the dishwasher and starting it.  
Once more, they went to bed early, but fell asleep rather late.

Wednesday, December 31st, 2014

Once again, Nives woke up next to Richard; in the twilight coming from the closed curtains, showing the day had just dawned, she watched intently the profile of the man she loved. A lump formed in her throat while she thought back to all the years of loneliness she had suffered; so many times she had cried bitter tears feeling immeasurably and unjustly alone… but each tear, each sob seemed to her now completely repaid, simply because now she was with a wonderful man like Richard Armitage. What now welled up in her eyes were tears of deep emotion and gratitude, of joy and hope. She closed her eyes for a moment, while her thoughts went off to the Mother Goddess, whom years ago she had become a worshipper.  
Sometimes I blamed you, Goddess, because of the sorrow I felt… but now I know it was all worth it. Thank you… and forgive my doubting You.  
She opened her eyes again and dried a tear running down her cheek, then she got up, heading for the bathroom. She shivered in the cold room: she wore only lace knickers, so she moved hurriedly and went to freshen up. When she got back, she found Richard awake; he had drawn back the curtains and turned on the fireplace, and he was awaiting her sitting on the bed, the upper sheet down, uncovering his chest; when they were together, they slept always naked, or almost so.  
“Good morning, my love”, he greeted her with a small, lovingly smile; she felt her heart somersaulting.  
“With you, it’s always a good morning”, she answered in a whisper, slipping under the coverlets and embracing him. He kissed her tenderly on her lips.  
“I don’t like to wake up alone”, he complained.  
“Well, I see to fix this at once”, Nives whispered, moving one hand under the sheets and placing it on his manhood; Richard started, delighted, “I think someone else is feeling lonely, here…”, she grinned naughtily. Suddenly, she pulled away the quilt and slipped down the actor’s body, closing her mouth around his virility, still at rest; Richard uttered a groan, both of surprise and of pleasure.  
“Wha… what are you doing…?”, he panted. Of course, it was just a rhetorical question, but Nives answered nevertheless:  
“I’m fixing.”  
“Oh…”, he sighed, “Well, I hope you’ll fix very often… ah!”, he cried, while she petted him in a very sexy way.  
Satisfied, Nives felt him harden in just a few moments; she ignored his exhortation to hold on and didn’t stop until Richard reached the peak, groaning loudly and shuddering uncontrollably, clamped eyes, head thrown back. She didn’t leave him until she felt him relaxing again, then with a gratified smile she cuddled next to him; Richard held her and looked at her, pleasure blurring his eyes.  
“This wasn’t a way to fix…”, he whispered, “It was your revenge for yesterday morning, confess…”  
Nives’ smile broadened while her eyes sparkled with amusement.  
“That’s right”, she admitted, “I told you, I’d catch you when least you expected it…”  
He held her closer and kissed her hair.  
“And then you accuse me to be the terrible one”, he grumbled, making her grin; he rested a few minutes, then he lifted her face to his and kissed her.  
“You’re not going to get away with it like that”, he warned her, toppling her on the bed, “Revenge for revenge: I start a feud…”  
He bent over and captured a nipple in his mouth, caressing it with his tongue and sucking it until he felt it swell, while Nives moaned her approval; then he went over to the other nipple and at the same time slipped one hand in her knickers, teasing her pleasure knot and making her start like he had earlier. Some moments later, the knickers flew away and she laid there naked; quickly, Richard exchanged his fingers with his mouth and tongue and Nives began to moan uncontrollably, softly at the beginning, then louder and louder, until climax shook her deeply and made her scream. Richard relished her sweet juices, savouring them greedily, and didn’t move until her pleasure spasms ceased.  
With one last kiss to her tender female flower, he pulled back and laid next to her. Nives opened her eyes and looked at him as if though a haze.  
“I like this feud…”, she whispered. Richard smiled, satisfied, and pulled up the duvet, covering them both. He was in no hurry to get up.

At 4 o’clock in the afternoon, Nives left the spa and got upstairs to change, planning on begin the cooking already: she wanted to start early, so she would have plenty of time to shower and accurately dress up for dinner. She would use one of the other rooms, so she would surprise her man with her stylish outfit for New Year’s Eve.  
She loved listening to music while cooking, but being there no stereo in the kitchen, she left the door to the living room open, so she could listen to her favourite musician, Alan Parsons, from a flash drive she brought, containing also danceable music for the after-dinner: so far she never had the opportunity to dance with Richard and couldn’t wait to do so.  
First thing, Nives prepared the beef tenderloin with potatoes and placed it in the oven, then she took care of the vegetables, sautéed mushrooms and spinach gratin with grana cheese. At this point she went to the starter, vol-au-vent – out of convenience, she bought them already made – and stuffed them with fresh ricotta cheese, whipped with some cream in order to make it softer and seasoned with chopped chives, then she put them in the fridge, covered in tinfoil. Now only the first course remained, but that was quick to prepare, being it large tortelli stuffed with red radicchio salad, cheese and speck, a cold cut typical of South Tyrol; she had bought them at an artisanal pasta factory in her town, which she would season simply with butter and grana cheese. The dessert would be pandoro, the one she spoke about with Richard through Skype.  
She was about to put into the dishwasher what tools she had used so far, when she heard an old song of Alan Parsons she liked very much, with a very good rhythm. She dropped the dishwasher for the moment and began to dance around the kitchen.  
Arriving from the garage after coming home from the ski slopes, Richard heard the music, but didn’t recognise it; curious about the high volume, he went to the living room, but Nives wasn’t there. Noticing the open door of the kitchen, he headed for it.  
Nives hadn’t heard Richard coming, therefore she continued dancing; she performed a rather difficult step, ending it with a twirl which took her in front of the door facing the living room; there, she saw Richard who, leaning on the jamb, was looking at her with an admiring smile. She halted abruptly, slightly embarrassed.  
“Hey… hullo!”, she cried, panting a little, “You’re back already?”  
“Yes, I am”, he confirmed, even if there was of course no need, “You know, it’s pretty cool watching you dancing.”  
“Hum… thanks”, she muttered, and then she laughed, wondering why she should feel embarrassed: she knew she was a good dancer; after all, she did it since she was five and her mother taught her Viennese Waltz, and then years of classes of all kind of dances had refined her natural predisposition for this performing art.  
Richard came close and took her in his arms.  
“You’re nimble and graceful”, he said. Nives put her arms around his neck while he stooped.  
“Thank you”, she murmured a moment before he kissed her.  
When they pulled apart, Richard looked around.  
“Smells really good”, he commented, “What do we have for dinner?”  
Nives told him the menu, with some difficulties because she didn’t know the English translation of some ingredients and of other ones there was no correspondence, such as radicchio. Because of this, Richard didn’t understand everything, but he decided he didn’t really care about it, being the scent very promising.  
“And I bet you chose a different wine for each course”, he said.  
“Exactly, I’ll reveal them during dinner”, she confirmed, “How was your day?”, she enquired then, smiling.  
“Very well”, the actor answered, “I made a rather difficult slope, a red one”, he revealed, referring to the degree of difficulty, which was quite high.  
“Bravo!”, Nives complemented him, “I hope you’re not too tired”, she added then, “because I brought some music, as we agreed, to dance tonight.”  
“Don’t worry, I’m not too tired”, Richard reassured her, “I’ll be glad to dance with you…”, he brushed her lips with a kiss, “Shall we set the table?”, he asked then, wanting to help her.  
“Yeah, so we can forget about it”, Nives accepted. The dishware in the chalet’s supply wasn’t particularly fine, but they would settle for it; but there were different glasses for water and for wine, and even stemmed ones for spumante.  
Later, while Richard was dressing up with his elegant three-pieces in their room, Nives headed to another one. Not being used, the heating of this bedroom was out, but she had turned on the fireplace soon enough and now it was comfortably warm.  
For New Year’s Eve, she would wear the short, black strapless dress her grandmother sewed for her, decorated with big golden and silvery sequins on the skirt, with a black shrug; about the pantyhose, she had hesitated until the last moment whether to wear a pair with back seam, fearing it would look more vulgar than sexy, but then she thought that nothing is too sexy for a man in love – so much that, for the after party, she planned on wearing the red baby-doll she had bought especially for this night.  
She was not very good at doing her hair, so she just got it flowing down her back, with a few glittering pins to decorate it; then she wore long dangly earrings in black crystal and a matching bracelet sticking out of a sleeve of her shrug. Finally, she put on some makeup, a sparkling eye shadow and a glossy lipstick to highlight her lips, which her beautician claimed to be perfect.

  
She had planned a scenographic entrance, where she would walk down the stairs while Richard awaited her at the bottom, therefore she waited him to inform her via text message he was in place, then she turned off the fireplace and exited the room. She began to descend the stairs, slowly in order both not risking to trip over her high heels and to have that sophisticated and somewhat haughty air the models on the catwalk show.  
Richard, waiting at the bottom of the stairs, hearing her arriving lifted his gaze… and felt like struck by lightning. He watched her coming down with a devouring gaze: Nives looked to him simply stunning, especially because she was smiling at him with so much love, he felt like melting. From her part, Nives felt like getting lost in those bright blue irises that had her charmed since the first moment and that continued to keep her enthralled in their spell.  
When she arrived at the bottom, Richard held out his hand and Nives took it.  
“You’re gorgeous”, he told her in a whisper, kissing gallantly her hand. Thrilled, Nives recalled how he did the same thing back in London, that first night they talked in his dressing room and later, when he took his leave after escorting her to her hotel. Lifting his gaze to look at her again, Richard remembered, too, and smiled tenderly at her.  
“You’re too beautiful… I can’t do without kissing you…”, he murmured, pulling her to him and placing his lips on hers in a light kiss, careful not to smudge her lipstick; but Nives couldn’t care less and parted her lips, inviting him to kiss her deeply. He didn’t complain.  
They stayed there in each other’s arms, exchanging kisses for several minutes, until the oven alarm rang, sending off a noise shrill enough to make Nives tear off her lips from Richard’s.  
“Goodness, better turn off the oven or the sirloin will burn!”, she cried, worried; she ran in the next room, risking to break her ankle on the vertiginous heels, which she wasn’t used to. Richard was a little baffled by her sudden defection, but he recovered soon and followed her.  
Nives had already turned off the oven and was now removing the starters from the fridge. Richard helped her and took the tray from her to carry it to the table, so she grabbed the bottle of Chardonnay she had chosen to go with this first course.  
Richard got back in the kitchen:  
“Is there something else I can do to help you?”  
Nives watched him closely and chuckled:  
“Go and wipe off the lipstick from your mouth, while I put it back on.”  
“Are you sure it’s worth, putting back your lipstick?”, he teased her, giving her what she called his bedroom eyes stare, which gave her always goosebumps. And certainly not because she was cold.

  
“Scoundrel”, she muttered, slapping him on his forearm, “Now run or you’ll regret it…”  
In response, he ran the tip of his tongue on his lips, as savouring the kisses they had just exchanged and of which he bore the signs, whereupon Nives treated him with the corkscrew; he exited laughing, heading for the dining room where a mirror hung over a low cabinet. He looked into it and wiped off the lipstick with a handkerchief. A moment later, Nives arrived with the wine, which she had already tried and found satisfying; she poured it in the glasses, then she got to the mirror and put on back some lipstick. She noticed Richard’s smouldering gaze and remembered that in Venice he had told her he found it very sexy, looking at a woman putting on her makeup; while slipping the lipstick back in her purse, she smiled at him impishly in the mirror. Richard closed briefly his eyes and shook his head as if wanting to clear it: had Nives really no idea she was playing with fire…?  
He had been waiting for her standing; now, always the perfect gentleman, he pulled the chair to help her sitting, then in turn took his seat; before they began to eat, he rose his glass for a toast:  
“Here’s to the two of us”, he said, looking into her eyes, “You’re the best company I could wish to spend with this New Year’s Eve.”  
Nives felt a lump in her throat: it was a lifelong dream, for her, to spend New Year’s Eve in the mountains with her man, and she couldn’t believe this dream had come true with Richard Armitage, of all the men in the world.  
“Same here”, she answered, whispering it to avoid her voice crackling; she touched Richard’s glass with hers and they took a sip.  
When the starter was finished – with Richard’s compliments – they took away the empty dishes. Nives cooked the tortelli – they needed just a few minutes in boiling water – and seasoned them with butter and grana; meanwhile, Richard had warmed up the dishes in the microwave, as Nives had asked him. She put the pasta in the dishes and they went back to sit and eat, and again Richard didn’t spare compliments to the cook.  
With the roasted meat, Nives changed wine, uncorking a Lagrein, a red wine from South Tyrol, dry but smooth, which the actor appreciated much.  
Much to Nives’ satisfaction, he asked for a second slice of tenderloin roast, and then they drank some coffee; pandoro and spumante were meant for midnight. Finally, they cleared the table and loaded the dishwasher, then they went to the living room, where taking out the coffee table they created enough place to dance. Richard switched on the stereo and Nives gave him the flash drive with the music.  
The first pieces were all slow dances, which she had chosen in order to warm up the atmosphere. As soon as the first notes played, Richard smiled at Nives and stretched out his hand; she took it and he led her to the centre of the freed area. He took her into his arms and began to sway slowly, his chin on her temple; despite the high heels, she reached only to his lips. Wrapped in his arms, Nives closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth of his body and the music around them, feeling like in a delightful dream, but instead it was a wonderful reality.  
After three or four pieces, the music changed and went to a vivacious tango. Both Nives and Richard were very good dancers, even if she was a little out of practice because she hadn’t danced for a while; but he led her with confidence in the most complicated paces and ended with a spectacular casqué, which made her cry softly out, both surprised and delighted. Then there were some romantic Viennese waltzes, and finally they went back to slow dances.  
It was about 11 o’clock in the night, when Nives suggested:  
“What about some Caribbean dances?”  
“Fine!”, Richard, who loved this type of dances – salsa, merengue, bachata – approved immediately. Before beginning, Nives, feeling quite hot, took off her shrug, uncovering her bare shoulders. Richard cast her an admiring gaze; taking her back again into his arms to dance, he lowered impertinently his eyes into the neckline of her dress and the tip of his tongue appeared between his lips. Nives almost missed a step.  
“Rascal”, she muttered; he just grinned, then he held her tighter so he brushed his body against her; she felt his erection and widened her eyes.  
“Do you see what you do to me, Nives?”, Richard whispered, “I can’t wait to go back in our room…”  
Nives felt her blood boil: never, in all her life, had she felt so much admiration and want from a man.  
After several pieces, they tried the romantic and sensual bachata, until a glance to the clock on the wall above the fireplace brought Richard to a halt; he pointed at it: it was twenty to midnight.  
They turned down the stereo and went to get the plates and stem glasses, preparing them on the coffee table; then Nives went back to the kitchen and cut the pandoro horizontally, thus creating slices in the shape of stars, which she arranged non-aligned and covered with a small quantity of powdered sugar – not too much in order not to make it too sweet – so that in the end, the cake looked like a Christmas tree. Then she gave Richard the serving plate to carry it to the coffee table, and took the spumante from the fridge.

  
They turned on TV to see the correct time; there still were three minutes to go. Nives took away quickly the tinfoil and the cage covering the cork, ready to open the bottle.  
At the countdown of the last ten seconds, they counted aloud, and in the precise moment midnight arrived, Nives let the cork go with a bang. She was about to pour the wine in the glasses, but Richard cupped her cheeks and, looking into her eyes, whispered:  
“Happy New Year, my love”, before kissing her lovingly. Thrilled as ever, Nives grabbed his arm with her free hand and reciprocated the kiss, feeling her heart racing wildly and tears welling up in her eyes.  
Finally, they parted and Nives was able to pour the spumante in the stem glasses; Richard took them and waited for her to put down the bottle, then handed her her glass. They made them clink together, then Richard intertwined his arm with Nives’; looking into each other’s eyes, they drank together, and finally they exchanged another kiss full of tenderness.  
“If you excuse me one minute”, she whispered then, “I’d like to call my dad.”  
“Sure”, he said, “Meanwhile I post on Twitter the selfie I took today, with my best wishes to my followers.”  
“They’ll be very glad”, Nives smiled, getting her purse, which he had placed next to the stereo, “Will you show it to me, later?”  
“Of course…”  
She took her new mobile phone – her father gave it to her as a birthday gift – and used the speed dial to call.  
Luigi answered after four rings.  
“Happy New Year, child”, he said, honouring the tradition that said it has always to be the male to make wishes first, at New Year.  
“Happy New Year, dad”, Nives reciprocated, “Wait a moment…”, she put the phone on speaker, “Richard, it’s my father here, would you like to wish him a happy New Year?”, she asked him in English. Surprised, the actor hesitated only a moment, then he said in his own tongue:  
“Happy New Year, Mr. Nardini!”  
Nives quickly translated to Italian.  
“Hum… thanks”, Luigi reciprocated, happily surprised, “Here everybody is wishing you both a happy New Year, wait…”, a moment later they heard Francesca’s and Livio’s voices wishing them their best.  
“Are you having fun?”, Luigi asked his daughter.  
“Yes, we dined – Richard appreciated my menu very much – and then we danced until a few minutes ago, and now we’re drinking spumante and eating pandoro.”  
“We, too”, her father informed her laughing, “but in a short while I’ll go home to sleep… Anyway, tomorrow I’ll be back to Francesca and Livio’s, they insisted on me coming also for New Year’s Day lunch, and Marina wouldn’t take a no as an answer.”  
Nives smiled, content: those two were true friends, indeed, and loved her father as if he was their own, as much as they loved her like a sister; it was not without reason they had asked her to be the godmother of their only child, Marina.  
“Fine! I’m happy to hear this. Good night to all of you, then.”  
“Good night sweetheart… just sleep, from time to time”, Luigi grinned. Nives burst into laughter and hung up: Luigi was an out of the box father, because he didn’t pretend his daughter had no sexual life and actually he welcomed it, because it was part of her happiness and he was interested only in this.  
“You’re father seems to be very nice”, Richard said, a little uncertain: you can be far over forty, but dealing with your girlfriend’s male parent is never a picnic…  
“My father is a bit grouchy, but he can be very pleasant when he’s with people he is fond of”, Nives smiled, “Don’t you call home?”, she enquired then.  
“No, they’re all sleeping: my parents don’t celebrate New Year’s Eve for years, and so my brother and sister-in-law, who remain at home with their son. I’ll call them tomorrow morning to wish them happy New Year.”  
“I see”, Nives nodded, “So, are you going to show me that selfie?”, she asked then. He took out again his mobile phone and showed it to her; as usual, his amazing eyes stood out in an incredible way.

  
“You’re going to drive your fans crazy… I reiterate, your eyes should be outlawed as an illegal weapon!”, Nives laughed; Richard put a finger under her chin and made her lift her gaze to his.  
“The only one I want to drive crazy is you”, he claimed in a very low voice, “but out of pleasure…”  
Nives’ laughter died suddenly and she swallowed hard. She felt the almost incontrollable impulse to jump and seduce him on the spot; she couldn’t take her eyes off of Richard’s.  
Perfectly aware about the effect he was having on her, Richard decided to lengthen the wait a little, knowing that, afterwards, it would be even better. He made his usual mischievous grin and pulled back.  
“Well, are we going to eat this cake, or not?”, he asked gaily, getting near the coffee table where the pandoro was waiting for them, “I want a gigantic slice”, he recommended her, “but first I want to take a picture, it’s lovely”, he added, brandishing again his mobile phone; he made the shot, then he gestured her to proceed. Nives thought for a moment about how she could grant his request, as the biggest slices were the lowest ones; seeing her hesitation, Richard suggested:  
“Let’s take another dish and turn it upside down.”  
“Great idea”, she approved. The actor went to get a second serving plate and placed it on the top of the cake, then he flipped it over; Nives took the largest slice, discarding the bottom – informally called arse and always slightly burned – and served it to Richard. For herself, she chose the smallest slice.  
“Delicious”, Richard declared after the first bite.  
“Tomorrow morning we’ll have breakfast with hot chocolate and pandoro”, Nives said, “Back home it’s our tradition”, she explained, seeing his quizzical gaze.  
“Mmmhh, sounds exquisite”, he commented; a smudge of powdered sugar decorated his upper lip and Nives burst out into laughter, “Well, what is it?”, Richard asked, rising his eyebrow; this reminded her strongly Mr Spock, her favourite character in Star Trek, and this made her laugh even harder.  
“I don’t tolerate people laughing at me”, the British actor pretended to scowl, setting down the dish with the cake, “I demand your apologies.”  
Nives looked at him for a moment with slight apprehension, then a grin bent her lips and Richard felt suddenly alarmed: what had just popped in her mind, now…?  
“I agree, it’s not nice laughing at people”, Nives said, putting down in turn her by now empty plate. She got next to the actor and cupped his face, pulling him down to her. Richard prepared for a kiss, but instead she stuck out her tongue and licked the sugar off his lip, making him jump out of surprise. She chuckled, triumphantly.  
But Richard was no type to let someone having the last word in such a matter; he grabbed Nives and planted a kiss on her lips, careless he would cancel her lipstick; but at this point of the night, it didn’t matter anymore.  
When he pulled away, he kept his eyes staring into hers.  
“And you have the gull to call me a rascal”, he grumbled.  
“Don’t you like me precisely for that?”, Nives retorted, giggling; but she felt very hot.  
“Sure”, Richard admitted, grinning, then he held her tight for a more serious kiss than the one before. When he left her lips, Nives was feeling even hotter.  
“Would you think me too cheeky, if I’d ask you to go to our room?”, she asked him in a low voice. Richard’s mind went off immediately to the love delights this question was hinting to and a shudder crawled down his spine.  
“Not at all”, he whispered, hoarsely, “Let’s clean up…”  
“That, we can do tomorrow”, Nives stopped him, “Let’s just drink the last of the wine, then we’ll just leave everything there and take care of it tomorrow morning.”  
They did so, and finally they got to their room, where they had in mind to go on celebrating in a rather different way…


	5. Chapter V: Thursday, January 1st 2015 night

 

Chapter V: Thursday, January 1st 2015 night

As soon as they got back in their room, Richard tried to take Nives in his arms, but she escaped him with a promising smile.  
“Make yourself comfortable”, she invited him, “Maybe you could turn on the fireplace, would you?”  
He saw her grabbing a bundle and disappearing in the bathroom. He felt vaguely disappointed, but the gaze she had addressed him was very enticing, so he felt completely reassured about her intentions; he accomplished what she had asked him, then he took off his jacket and tie. Once more, recalling how much Nives liked to see him with open shirt, he unbuttoned it and took off his cufflinks, and also shoes and socks, getting barefoot. At this point, he prepared the bed, taking away the extra cushions and pulling aside the duvet, and finally he sat on the couch in front of the hearth.  
Meanwhile, in the bathroom Nives carefully removed her makeup, then stripped completely and put on the captivating red baby doll she bought expressly for this night, matching with very high-cut knickers.  
She brushed her hair, then she changed her mind and dishevelled it so that they had a slightly savage air; then she took the pill – as she did every night, always caring about prevention – and finally, barefooted, she went back to the bedroom.  
Richard was waiting for her sitting on the couch, like the day before, but in a different position, his elbows resting on his knees, his gaze lost into the fire.  
“What are you thinking about, _amore mio_?”, Nives asked him, the last two words in Italian.  
He turned his head and his astonishing blue eyes shot into her very core like the first time she had seen them; except that then they were looking at her from the big screen, while now they were doing it _live_ and were filling up with admiration and longing. She felt breathless and excited; would she ever get used to such love and passion-filled gazes? She doubted it…  
Richard felt his throat going dry at seeing Nives in that scanty baby doll; he thought that, in all his life, he had never seen another woman more alluring than she was.

  
“I was thinking of you”, he whispered. He started to get up, but she gestured him to stay where he was and got near him; when she arrived in front of him, she turned slowly around, lifting up her hair and showing off herself on all sides. Richard noticed her back was almost completely bare, while under the rim of her short vest he could glimpse at the sensual curves of her buttocks. His hands began to prickle out of longing to caress her everywhere.  
“Do you like my night-time outfit?”, she asked in a low voice. He rose his eyes to meet hers, a sparkle in his bright irises.  
“Very… but I much more prefer what’s _inside_ this outfit”, he claimed; his voice, an octave lower than usual, made deep chords vibrate in Nives’ soul and body. She approached her man, took his hands and placed them on her hips, then she sat on his lap, her knees on both sides of his legs, and wrapped her arms around his neck.  
“Thank you”, she murmured, before kissing him. He enclosed her in his arms, caressing with one hand the skin on her back, with the other her thigh; he parted his lips on Nives’ solicitation and reciprocated passionately her kiss. Climbing on the outer part of her leg, he passed his hand over to her buttock, and finally slipped it under her chemise, on her hip, getting finally on the lower part of her back; with the other hand, he began to lower one spaghetti strap.  
Leaving her mouth, he kissed her neck; she threw back her head, exposing her throat, which he hurried to brush with his lips while denuding one breast. Supporting her with his hand on her back, he made her lean further back, while slowly placing kisses on her chest, going lower and lower until he reached one soft mound, and finally close his mouth around the erect nipple.  
Feeling the tip of Richard’s tongue brushing that hard bud, Nives panted. She grabbed his shoulders, arching her back even more to better offer herself to him. In doing so, her centre rubbed on the swelling in his trousers, eliciting a hoarse groan from him. That sound excited her and induced her to rub herself again; therefore, Richard exchanged hands and quickly lowered the other spaghetti strap, then he took his ministrations to the just bared breast. She sighed in pleasure.  
“You’re so soft…”, Richard whispered, cupping the breast he just left, squeezing lightly and brushing its nipple with his thumb. Nives shuddered and uttered a moan; she felt an unbearable heat between her legs and she thought confusedly she was close to catch fire.  
He wasn’t doing any better, while waves on waves of heat shot through him from head to toe. Not able to resist any longer, he tore his mouth from Nives’ breast and hold her tight, standing up. Automatically, she wrapped her legs around his waist and let him carry her to the bed, where he laid her carefully down before getting rid of his shirt. Nives watched him in admiration and caressed his muscular chest, before he bent over and kissed her deeply. When he got off her lips, he pulled back to strip her of her blouse, leaving her with only her knickers on. At this point, she opened his belt, longing to touch him with no hindrances; Richard was more than willing to please her and took quickly off his trousers and brief boxers, freeing his engorged virility. Glancing at it, Nives felt her inner muscles tingling in anticipation; she made him lay down on his back and wrapped her fingers around his male sceptre, caressing it while wetting her lips with her tongue. That unconsciously erotic gesture elicited a groan from Richard; Nives realised the effect she was having on him and, raising her eyes to his, she shot him a seductive smile, before quickly climbing down his body and closing her mouth around the symbol of his manhood. He started and groaned louder while feeling her beginning to stroke him voluptuously, making him even harder; pleasure increased vertiginously and he knew that, if he didn’t stop her at once, he would explode in no time. Having other plans, he pulled away and panted:  
“Stop… stop…”  
Not giving her the time to react, he reversed their positions and took off her knickers, throwing them away before slipping one hand between her thighs; he was pleased to find she had already parted them, awaiting his caresses. He touched her, delicately, and listened satisfied to her sighs of pleasure.  
“You’re so hot…”, he murmured, “Let me taste you…”  
He bent down and placed his lips on the centre of her pleasure, teasing it with his tongue and eliciting other breathless sighs from her; then he opened her female flower and savoured it, and at this point, she uttered an unarticulated cry.  
“Richard… Richard please…”, she begged him, gasping, while she felt like drowning in an ocean of pleasure.  
“You’re exquisite…”, he whispered, “I’ve never enough of you…”  
He pulled away reluctantly from her velvety petals and began a long chain of kisses, climbing up her body; he lingered on her breasts, paying them homage, before laying down on top of her; she held him tight with arms and legs, impatiently.  
“Do you want me?”, he asked, looking into her eyes.  
“Yes… o yes, I want you!”, Nives gasped. And finally, slowly, he slipped inside of her; they moaned both, in pleasure and satisfaction to be united, once again, in one being only.  
Richard pulled back, then plunged in again; Nives’ love moans were the most appealing sound in the world, for him, and knowing he was the one causing them gratified him immensely. He moved rhythmically and felt her respond in perfect synchrony; he sped up, but was careful not to exaggerate, in order to avoid arriving to the top too soon, risking to leave her behind. His worries were but unfounded, because he had skilfully aroused her with strokes and kisses and therefore she was very near.  
Marvelled, Nives realised orgasm was already spreading inside of her, rising like a tidal wave. Her breath broken, she wheezed Richard’s name once, twice, before pleasure hit her at full force; then she uttered a loud moan, echoed by his, low and resonating, while he in turn was reaching the peak. Time seemed to stop while they enjoyed each other, both with body and soul.  
After long moments of ecstasy, they relaxed into each other’s arms. Richard buried his face into Nives’ shoulder, lovingly holding her tight; she stroked slowly his back.  
“The best way to begin the New Year”, she commented in an undertone, her blissful tone belying the playful one of her words.  
“You can say that”, he agreed, kissing her shoulder, than her neck, the line of her jawbone, until he reached her lips, “I love you, Nives…”  
“I love you too, Richard…”, she whispered, then she tightened her grip around him, “Thank you for saying it each day… exactly how I asked you…”  
Richard perceived the thrill in her voice; supporting himself on his elbows, he straightened back a little to look into her eyes.  
“It’s only the truth”, he claimed, brushing gently her cheeks with the back of his hands, “I know how important it is to you hearing me say it, and I like to tell you”, he kissed her tenderly, “I love you”, he repeated, kissing her once more.  
Nives hold him tight, making him lay again on top of her; no matter how many times he reiterated he loved her, she would never cease to feel incredulous at the marvel that Richard Armitage was truly her man.  
They held each other for long minutes, enjoying the warmth of their mutual closeness, a warmth that wasn’t only of their bodies touching one another, but of their souls and hearts. Finally, they parted, but only to get more comfortable in the view of slumber that soon took them, in each other’s arms.

Thursday, January 1st, 2015 morning

Even if she had fallen asleep very late, Nives awoke only one hour after her usual time, which was 7 o’clock.  
The daylight filtering through the closed curtains slightly lessened the darkness in the room; Nives distinguished Richard’s profile – that Greek profile she loved so much – and heard his slow breath. On her skin, she felt the warmth of his body, so close to hers; she got nearer to lean on him, but careful not to disturb him. The physical proximity reassured her this wasn’t just a dream – she still felt, very often, incredulous toward something she thought too beautiful to be real. If after three months she still felt like this, she seriously doubted she would ever be truly convinced.  
She stayed like this, crouched next to her man, her eyes closed, relishing his warmth; after about half an hour later, Richard moved and woke up. Nives lifted her head and looked at him; he opened his eyes and his bright blue irises, still fogged by sleep, glimpsed at her in the uncertain light coming from the window.  
“Good morning”, he murmured, the corners of his mouth lifted in a smile, “and happy New Year, my love.”  
She reciprocated his smile, feeling a lump in her throat because of the way he had called her.  
“Good morning to you, and happy New Year”, she whispered, sticking out her head to kiss his lips. She drew back, but he cupped her cheeks and pulled her near again for another kiss, then he wrapped his arms around her and made her lay on his chest.  
“You always wake up earlier than me”, he said then, in a quizzically tone.  
“I’ve never been able to sleep in, at morning”, Nives explained, “not even as a girl, when I hang out until 3 or 4 in the morning in the disco, only to crash early the night after.”  
“You kept early hours in the disco, he?”, the British actor mumbled, pretending to scowl, “Well, me too!”, he added, grinning, “But then I slept like a baby till noon.”  
“Never able to”, she reiterated, grinning in turn, “therefore expect me to go to sleep early, tonight.”  
“Not alone”, Richard claimed, “When we’re together, we are awake or we sleep together”, he concluded. Nives laid her head back on his chest, feeling content by the simple fact she was holding him.  
“Agreed”, she accepted, “It’s nice to sleep with someone…”  
She broke off, realising she had involuntarily hinted to her solitude. She didn’t want to ruin the joyful atmosphere of these wonderful days spent with Richard, so she hoped he didn’t notice.  
Vain hope.  
“You’ve been alone for a long time, haven’t you?”, he asked her under his breath. He never asked her openly about this, because the few times the topic had arisen, he had seen her upset, as she had been during their trip to Windsor; but he wanted to know more about it, to better understand the sorrow she had to go through and which he suspected to be very great. He felt her stiffen.  
“You don’t have to tell me, if you don’t want to”, he added tactfully, brushing her arm in a reassuring caress.  
Nives bit her lip. Whilst she was glad he showed empathy for her past sorrow, she had no desire to sadden him.  
“Are you sure you want to know about it now?”, she therefore enquired, “Wouldn’t it… distress you?”  
“Probably, yes”, he admitted, “but I’d like to know. Only if you want to tell me, that is”, he reiterated.  
Nives remained silent for a few moments, collecting her thoughts.  
“Would you mind opening the curtains?”, she asked him, being he on the bedside nearer to the window, “The daylight and the stunning view could help…”  
“Good idea”, Richard approved. He jumped out, naked as he was, and after opening the curtains, he got back to bed. He saw her looking at him with a naughty grin.

  
“Well, what is it?”, he grinned back, “Something you like?”  
“Something I like _very much_ , I’d say”, Nives confirmed, going back to hold him, “And not only the wrapping, as gorgeous as it is”, she added, sobering, “but also what’s here”, she brushed his brow, “and here…”, she placed one hand where his heart was. He took her hand and pressed it against his chest, without a word, awaiting for her to find the best way to tell him her story.  
Nives remained silent for some more moments.  
“I’ve always been a romantic girl”, she began, “and like all romantic girls, I dreamt about Prince Handsome. I was enough realistic to understand that reality very hardly matches dreams, but… I couldn’t help it. And then, one day I met Emilio. He was tall, dark, handsome, and nice and respectful. I fell immediately in love with him, even if he was some years younger than me at an age where generally even a few years are evident; but he was unusually mature, maybe because his family ran a firm and he had grown up knowing very well what responsibility and obligation mean. He was intelligent, witty, the liked to dance and travel, like me; he liked martial arts, motorcycles, Formula 1, in conclusion we had many things in common. Above all, moral values like family, friendship, loyalty, honesty. He has been my first man and I his first woman. After three years, we moved in together; and after a couple more years, we married, in the church, the whole deal, in front of all our relatives and friends. It lasted seven years. Then I don’t know, maybe the infamous crisis of the seventh year followed…”  
Up to this moment, Nives was capable to maintain her voice firm, but at this point it trembled and she had to stop. Even now, after so much time and even not being in love with her ex-husband anymore, she felt a knot in her stomach thinking of her shattered dreams.  
Richard held her tight and kissed her hair to make her feel his support; he had never been married, but he lived together with a woman for a couple of years; when it ended, he felt sick for months, even with all the temporariness a simple cohabitation with no marriage involves. He didn’t dare to think how sick Nives must have felt after nine years of cohabitation and marriage.  
Nives reciprocated his grasp, grateful for the comfort he was offering her. She found again her voice:  
“I fought with all my strength to save our marriage. I had married him because I believed in marriage, not out of conformism or convenience. I even protected him, because in the meantime the family company went bankrupt and he was heavily in debt, that was why we married separating our assets and everything was registered in my name – house, cars, motorcycles – therefore the creditors couldn’t take him anything away. Nonetheless, at a certain point Emilio told me he wanted to leave me. I asked him if there was another woman – or another man, considering these days – and he said no. I asked him why then the wanted to leave me, but he wasn’t able to answer. As I said, I tried hard to save our marriage, but he didn’t cooperate. I could only do my part, not his, too. And because I had put a ring on his finger and not a chain on his neck, in the end I let him go. But it almost destroyed me. He had been my all, you know… the cornerstone of my life, the focal point, the centre”, she shook her head and sighed, “Luckily, my parents supported me in all ways, and so did my friends. But do you know what _really_ made me hold on? The belief that, like everything in life, even this would pass. I was sure one day I’d get up, look into the mirror and say: _it’s over_. And you know what?”, she pulled back to look at Richard, who reciprocated her gaze with steady attention, “It happened _exactly_ as I foreboded: one morning – I remember it was about the middle of January – I woke up, looked into the mirror and told to myself: _it’s over_. One year and a half had passed, but _it was over_. The day after I went on a slimming diet – meanwhile I had gained much weight – and I decided to let my hair grow, having had it very short since I was eleven. In six months, I lost 12 kilos and got back in the shape I was when I met Emilio. And during a vacation in Crete I had a flirt, the first after the separation. And the only one, too, because even if I fervently wished to find another partner, I wasn’t so desperate to pick up just anyone. I thought it had something to do with me being afraid to get burned again, but it wasn’t because of this: actually, I was waiting for you…”  
Moved by her statement, Richard tightened his embrace.  
“And I was waiting for you”, he whispered, kissing her brow. Nives closed her eyes, relishing the feeling of his arms around her, in the warmth of his skin against hers.  
“I blamed Emilio for years, even after he died in a motorcycle accident”, she went on, wanting to tell him everything, “but one night my mother dreamt of him asking her desperately to help him. You must know that she was a psychic; I am, too, to a certain extent, but she was stronger… I hope you won’t think I’m crazy…”, she added, slightly worried.  
“Certainly not”, Richard said, “Even if I’m a very pragmatic person, I believe firmly there is much more, to this world, than… Horatio’s philosophy ever dreamt of”, he concluded with a small, amused smirk, paraphrasing the famous line Hamlet addresses to his friend who doubts he is seeing his father’s ghost, “After all, if I wouldn’t believe in it, that night at the Old Vic I wouldn’t ask you to wait for me…”  
Nives held her breath a moment, realising how frail the thread of destiny had been, which ensured their encounter; but after all, it is always like this, any choice one makes – or doesn’t make – however small, may lead to great changes in one’s life.  
She nodded and then continued:  
“So I realised his soul couldn’t rest in peace because of my resentment. Therefore, I told him it wasn’t me, the one who had to forgive him, but that he had to forgive himself for hurting me. I think he finally found serenity and was able to _move on_. May he rest in peace”, she concluded.  
Richard caressed slowly her arm, then her back.  
“How long have you been alone, after the separation from your husband?”, he asked her softly. She took a deep breath.  
“Since July 20th, 2000”, she answered in a low voice. He stared at her, flabbergasted.  
“But… this means over 14 years!”, he cried, “How is it possible that in all this time there was nobody else…?”  
She shook her head:  
“Except for the flirt I told you about, no, nobody… Not because none would offer, but because it always occurred that either someone liked me but I didn’t like him, or I liked someone who didn’t like me… until… on September 5th, 2014 I met _you_.”  
“The best day in my life”, Richard claimed; he made her lift her face to his and kissed her tenderly, “I love you, my sweet Italian girl”, he murmured against her lips, before kissing her again. She felt on cloud nine, all her sadness disappeared; there was nothing in the world making her feel better than being in Richard Armitage’s arms.  
When they parted, Nives’ eyes were full of tears of joy.  
“Now I know that each day, each hour of solitude was worth it…”, she whispered. Richard, too, felt tears welling up in his eyes and held her tight.

A little later, they got dressed and went downstairs to prepare the famous hot chocolate, which was the traditional New Year’s Day breakfast at Nives’.  
“As today I won’t go skiing”, Richard said, while she was bustling about the ready mixture she brought from home, “what’d you say if in the late afternoon we go to the spa together? I didn’t fancy going there alone, therefore I haven’t tried it yet…”  
Nives felt her blood boil: in the two former afternoons, she had often daydreamed to make love with Richard there. She never experimented anything like this and felt terribly excited by the idea, but she decided to play cool.  
“Very gladly”, she simply said with a smile.  
While she was pouring the milk needed for the two hot chocolates, Richard tidied up the living room, which they abandoned the way it was the night before, then set the table in the dining room, and finally helped her to carry there cups and _pandoro_ , now cut into small pieces. They sat down and had the best breakfast ever, because of the delicious chocolate and cake, but most of all because of each other’s company.  
When they finished, they put together the dishes with those of the night before and turned on the dishwasher, and then Nives shooed Richard out of the kitchen in order to begin the preparation of New Year’s Day lunch.  
“I can give you a hand”, the actor offered.  
“Thanks, perhaps later”, she answered, “Meanwhile, call your parents. If I need help, I’ll call you.”  
He didn’t look much convinced, but nodded and headed for the living room.  
Being now alone, Nives got busy. She took from the fridge the seafood-balls with minced thyme and parsley and the two sea beams; the night before she had them removed from the freezer to the fridge so they would defrost very slowly, in order to preserve their full flavour.  
While Nives was preparing the sea beams, stuffing them with parsley and thyme – to match the seafood-balls – and cloves of garlic and lemon wedges, Richard came back in the kitchen holding his mobile phone.  
“Nives, my parents want to speak with you”, he announced smiling, “Mon, dad, you’re on speaker”, he added.  
“Happy New Year, dear Nives!”, she heard Margaret’s voice, slightly distorted by the device.  
“Happy New Year!”, John followed.  
“Thanks, you too!”, Nives cried, glad to hear them, “How are you?”  
“Fine, thank you”, Margaret answered, “Today we’ll go to Chris and Susan for lunch”, she added, “Susan told us she’d prepare pork loin.”  
Nives needed a moment to recall who they were, that is Richard’s brother and sister-in-law.  
“Hum, I’m cooking a roast, too”, she announced, “but seafood.”  
“Richard told me you like cooking very much”, John said, “This is good, as he likes eating very much”, he concluded, laughing and making everyone laugh, too.  
“Have a good New Year’s Day”, Margaret wished them, “And Nives, remember our invitation for Eastern: let us know if you can come, alright?”  
“Sure”, she answered, enthusiastic: she would really like to go and see the places Richard was born and grown up.  
“Have a nice New Year’s Day, you too”, Richard added, before saying goodbye and hanging up.  
“I hope your family isn’t too disappointed that you’re here with me instead of at home with them…”, Nives said, always afraid to displease her man’s parents.  
Richard cast her a genuinely surprised glance.  
“You’re kidding, I hope! They’re more than glad I have finally found the woman of my life, especially my mother”, seeing her still a little uncertain, he put down his mobile phone on the kitchen counter and grasped her around her waist, pulling her to his chest, “Nives, I’m serious: they are truly happy for me and therefore they encourage me to stay with you as much as possible, especially considering we live so far away from one another and therefore we can’t see us very often.”  
Nives had no reason to question her _parents-in-law_ ’s sincerity, hence she nodded, showing him she was reassured.  
“Good”, Richard said, content, “So, can I do something to help you?”  
Nives showed him the potatoes she wanted to boil in order to mash them; the actor cleaned them diligently, then put them into a pot with salted water and placed it on the stove. Meanwhile, Nives had the sea beams shoved in the oven and began to prepare the salad; not waiting for any hints, Richard helped her, chopping some tomatoes, a fennel and a yellow pepper. The result was a colourful bowl, looking very tasty.  
“We’re well over the hump”, she announced, “The seafood will be ready by 1 o’clock, while the balls need just a few minutes at the last moment. Let’s set the table, will you?”  
“Yeah, fine”, Richard accepted. So they did, then Nives returned to the kitchen to check over the baking and the cooking; meanwhile he went up to get ready for lunch. After shaving, he donned the dark suit he wore the night before, this time playing it down with a white shirt and a light grey tie, more apt for the day.  
When he got downstairs, he found Nives sitting in front of the TV watching the New Year’s concert broadcasted form the famous theatre _La Fenice_ in Venice.  
“It’s tradition back home”, she explained, standing up with a smile, “First the concert from Venice, then the one from Wien.”  
Richard listened for a moment and recognised a famous piece from _La Bohème_ by Puccini.  
“I like it”, he claimed, sincerely.  
“The balls, too, are ready”, she announced, standing up, “I placed them in the microwave to keep them warm”, she moved, “I go upstairs to change.”  
“I’ll wait for you…”  
In their room, Nives donned a short lace dress in her second favourite colour, electric blue; then she put on a light makeup – just eyeliner and mascara, and lipstick – and finally got back downstairs.

  
Richard was sitting on the couch, listening to the concert, but as soon as he saw her arriving, he turned to look at her. His admiring expression forewarned her about his comment:  
“You’re _fabulous_.”  
Nives felt very flattered and even a little incredulous: she had always thought being at most pretty, but Richard made her feel gorgeous.  
“Thank you”, she murmured, thinking that it has him, the one _fabulous_ : anything he was wearing, he looked great, be it jeans and t-shirt, an elegant suit or a tuxedo. She suspected he would look great even in a scum sack…  
“Shall I prepare some drinks?”, Richard asked, getting up.  
“Good idea”, she approved, “Meanwhile I’ll take care of the wine.”  
While she was uncorking it, Richard poured the _spritz_ and carried them in the living room with a bowl of chips, and Nives got the wine on the table.  
“You haven’t poured this in a carafe”, the actor said, “White wine mustn’t be decanted, right?”  
“Bravo!”, she cried, glad that her classes had been acknowledged, “This is Gargànego from the Euganei Hills, an area not far from where I live, fine with seafood.”  
They drank their aperitif with the chips, chatting pleasantly while the immortal Italian operas played in the background. When they finished, they brought back to the kitchen the glasses and the bowl, then Nives took the fried seafood-balls from the microwave and they sat down to eat; then came the baked sea beams with the mashed potatoes and salad. To Nives’ greatest satisfaction, Richard found everything delicious.  
For dessert, Nives had purchased a sweetbun at her favourite pastry shop, which she served now with chilled _Torcolato_ , a raisin wine produced in the area where she lived.  
“Take it easy, with this one”, she recommended Richard, while pouring the golden liquid in the glasses, filling them only to a third of their capacity, “because it’s more of a liqueur, rather than a wine.”  
She had indeed no idea if he knew about raisin wines and was therefore aware of their alcoholic degree, much higher than table wines.  
“It tastes almost like a sherry”, the actor claimed after trying a small sip. Nives nodded to show she agreed.  
They cleared the table together and loaded the dishwasher; then they prepared coffee and went to sit again in front of the TV, while the renowned Viennese New Year’s concert was playing, with its romantic music evoking court balls of the nineteenth century.  
They spent this way a couple of hours, cuddling on the couch, Richard’s arm around Nives, while they chatted and laughed, having fun and enjoying each other’s company. At a certain point, Richard’s mobile phone chimed, announcing the arrival of a Whatsapp message; checking who it might be, the British actor smiled:  
“It’s Lee”, he told Nives, meaning his good friend Lee Pace, “ _Hi! I wish you and Nives a Happy New Year in the sign of love!_ ”, he read aloud, “ _Maybe mine will be, too: I met a girl here in NY, gorgeous, smart, sexy, full of verve and… would you believe it? She’s Italian! Her name’s Anna, she’s a historian specialised in Middle Age, and cooperates with the university of Venice but presently she’s here for a joint venture with the NYU. She’s fantastic and… I think I lost my head. Cross your fingers for me, ol’ man!!!!_ ”, Richard put down his mobile phone and looked at Nives, crouched next to him, “I hope he’s right”, he said, “I remember back in London he told me he’d longed to meet the right person.”  
“I hope it, too”, she nodded, “I don’t know him well, but I like him very much as a person. So this Anna is from Venice? Looks like that town brings good luck, where love is concerned, directly or not”, she concluded, smiling while recalling their stay in the marvellous town on the lagoon.  
“Looks really that way”, Richard agreed, brushing her brow with a kiss.  
They went on watching and listening to the Viennese concert; when it was over, the actor asked:  
“What about going in the spa as we planned this morning?”  
“Sure”, Nives agreed.


	6. Chapter VI: Thursday, January 1st evening

 

Chapter VI: Thursday, January 1st evening

While they were changing, Richard didn’t hide his appreciation in front of Nives who was taking off her dress, stripping to her underwear – again, an elegant set in ivory lace. Noticing it, she ogled him in turn.  
“If you continue to stare at me this way”, she said in a low voice, “I assure you, we won’t get in the spa…”  
The actor, indeed, was very tempted to stay in their bedroom, but he thought that another similar chance wouldn’t occur so easily.  
“Sorry”, he mumbled, looking elsewhere with his typical grin; but then it was Nives’ turn to be unable taking her eyes off him while he undressed in order to don his swimming shorts. He was striking like a Greek god and she would never have enough of watching him, dressed or naked.  
Making an effort, she turned away from the contemplation of his magnificent virile physique and pinned her hair – which she had braided and rolled up – on top of her head; probably it would go wet nonetheless, but at least not completely.  
Finally, wrapped in their bathrobes, they went down to the spa. Outside it was nightfall; Richard set the lights on a dim yellow hue, while Nives lighted the candles on the edge of the small pool. They took off bathrobes and flip-flops, entered the lukewarm water and switched on the Jacuzzi.  
Richard took quickly a seat; turning, Nives saw him leaning on his elbows on the edge of the tub, on his face an appealing expression. She approached him and he pulled her to his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist. She was a little surprised, but didn’t complain at all and in turn wrapped her arms around him, smiling.

  
“Do you like it, here?”, Richard asked her in a low voice.  
“Yes, very much”, she sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder, “but all the more with you here with me…”  
“Do you feel lonely, when I go skiing…?, he asked, worried, thinking he could even do without it, the next few days she would stay.  
Nives perceived his apprehension and lifted her gaze to look into his eyes.  
“It’s only for a few hours each time”, she reminded him, “and I’m in Tolkien’s company.”  
“But…”  
“No buts, Armitage”, she cut him off immediately in a commanding tone, frowning, “We have a deal and I demand you maintain your part of it, is that clear?”  
“Yes madam!”, he cried, laughing, “You’re worse than a colonel, you know that?”, he added humorously. Nives rose her eyebrows:  
“Several years ago I met a captain of the American Rangers”, she revealed, “a motorcyclist like me. He too, called me a colonel”, she concluded, laughing in turn.  
“The Rangers? More or less, the equivalent to the British SAS…”  
“Exactly”, she confirmed, “It looks like in my destiny there _had_ to be a soldier…”, she concluded, winking. He looked down to her lips, parted and desirable.  
“Just a fake one…”, he whispered.  
“…but the man who performed him is _very_ real…”, Nives replied, bringing her face closer to his. He felt her breath on his lips and closed his eyes while a quiver ran down his spine, arriving to his manhood. No woman had ever had so great an effect on him… not as an adult man, at least; as a teenager, it had occurred, but that didn’t count, because it’s an age when hormones are totally out of control.  
He lifted one hand, brushing her back, until he placed it on her nape; he drew her nearer and joined his mouth with hers in a light kiss.  
“I love you, Nives”, he reminded her, before taking again her lips. He caressed her lower lip with his tongue, sweetly, then he pushed it forward to meet hers, kissing her deeply.  
Nives cupped his face and uttered an ecstatic sigh. She adored the way he kissed her, tender and passionate at the same time; it made her heart race wildly. How could she just think, at the beginning, she could keep herself from falling in love with such a man? It had been her fear of another disillusion, which she wouldn’t be able to get over, the only thing that made her try to stand against a feeling that already was budding in her heart even before meeting him; but just a few days with him had been enough, in London first and then in Venice, to make her yield.  
“I love you, too, Richard”, she whispered when he temporarily left her mouth.  
Richard felt butterflies in his stomach, like each time she told him; it wasn’t just her, the one asking for reassurance about their mutual feeling, he too needed it, because too many times he had been let down by women who wanted him only for the prestige or the fame, or for his physical prowess.  
He lowered his head and brushed her neck with his lips; she tilted her head backwards and so he went lower, on her chest. Because she was sitting in his lap, the water simmered just under her breasts, so he could go and nip the soft mounds only partially covered by the meagre bikini. He noticed her nipples were already erect under the cloth and so he took one in his mouth, brushing them with his tongue in an exciting caress that made her moan.  
“O Richard…”, he heard her sigh. Slowly, he slipped one hand up her back and unhooked her bra, then lowered its straps. Nives realised he was about to make her erotic dream come true and this took her breath away, while her inner muscles vibrated in anticipation. She pulled slightly back to allow him taking off the garment; as soon as he had freed her from it, Richard took again the peak of one breast in his mouth, sucking at it. The moan he elicited from her had him feeling new shivers running down his spine.  
“So y-you had _this_ in mind, this morning”, she gasped, “when… you asked me to come here…”  
“Yes, I’m guilty, Your Honour”, the British actor admitted in a low voice, switching nipple, “I’ll accept every appropriate punishment…”  
While talking, he was caressing slowly one of her thighs; he reached the responsive area behind her knee and brushed it with feather-light fingers. Automatically, she bent her leg and so he passed his hand on the inner side of it, climbing slowly along her thigh. It was evident where he has aiming to and Nives encouraged him, parting her legs further. When Richard’s fingers reached their goal, touching her intimately through the lower part of her swimwear, she trembled and voiced a soft cry of pleasure.  
At this exciting sound, Richard felt his heart jump up in his throat. Longing to touch her with no obstacles, he slipped his fingers inside her swimwear and brushed the core of her femininity, making her quiver even harder.  
Nives felt her head spin; Richard’s strokes were as sensual as they were lovingly and she felt like vibrating deep inside of her.  
“How do you do it…?”, she burbled, breathless.  
“Doing what…?”, Richard whispered, removing briefly his mouth from her breasts.  
“To have me craving madly… to make you mine…!”, she gasped.  
“Perhaps because I crave madly to be yours…”, the actor replied, and began to slip her knickers down her legs. Nives moved to ease his task, but when she has completely naked, she pulled away from his hands in order to touch him in turn. She stroked the bulge swelling up his swimming shorts and he started in pleasure; not content, Nives freed him of the garment and wrapped her fingers around his virile tower, caressing it all the way through, from the base to the tip. Richard uttered an unarticulated cry, throwing back his head and raising his pelvis to press himself further in her hand.  
“Oh God, baby…”, he gasped, “Do you want to drive me mad…?”  
“Not at all”, Nives murmured, removing her hand and straddling him, “Take me, Richard… now…”  
Her urgency to join her body with his happily surprised him; he grasped her hips and moved to position himself against her feminine opening, then he thrusted himself inside of her, slowly, so to enjoy each centimetre of her warm recess. Nives uttered an uneven sigh, pushing herself down to him, eager to feel him completely inside of her.  
“Oh Nives… you’re fabulous…”, Richard muttered, pulling back and then raising again his pelvis toward her; she moved to match his motions.  
“And you’re fantastic”, Nives sighed. Richard searched for her mouth and kissed her ardently, tightening his arms around her to feel her closer, body and soul. Their breaths became more and more laboured, their movements more and more frantic; hearing Nives’ love cries becoming louder, Richard drew back to look at her. He adored watching her face while she enjoyed the pleasure he gave her, because it made him feel good, even more than his own pleasure.  
Feeling his gaze, Nives opened her eyes in turn and stared at his. Looking at him while he was making love to her increased even more the ecstasy of their joining.  
At the high point, she tensed and arched her back, invoking Richard’s name. Her first contraction hurled him, too, beyond the limit; he wheezed her name, breathless, while the world darkened, reduced only to the two of them and the pleasure they were sharing. He felt her tremble convulsively in his arms, while more whimpers escaped her lips, and he relished in them even more than their lovemaking.  
Slowly, their spasms quietened down; panting, Nives laid her head on Richard’s shoulder, her nose brushing his neck. Not showing any desire to exit her, Richard held her tight and kissed her temple.  
“My precious…”, he whispered. She needed a moment to realise what exactly he had said; then her eyes filled with tears, because she didn’t even remember the last time someone had addressed her like this. She held him tight in turn, brushing his neck with her lips.  
“ _Amore mio_ …”, she whispered in Italian, “ _Vita mia... Non riuscirò mai a dirti veramente quanto ti amo_ …”  
Richard blinked, slightly confused; he didn’t understand Italian, but he had picked up the words _amore_ , love, _vita_ , life, and _ti amo_ , I love you, and that was enough for him to figure out the general meaning. He stroked gently her back.  
“I like to hear you talking in Italian”, he murmured, realising it just now, “but I’m sorry I can’t understand what you say. You have an advantage over me…”, he concluded, smiling.  
“You’re right”, Nives admitted, a little contrite, “I said you’re my love, my life, and that I won’t ever be able to tell you truly how much I love you…”  
Her voice broke off and Richard felt deeply touched.  
“Words have their limits”, he considered, “and not even the greatest poets can get over them; but more than words, the facts count… Even small things like a gaze, a caress or a kiss can express much more things, sometimes, than an entire poem. I know it well, because in acting, more often than you can imagine, there are scenes where one small gesture expresses everything without speaking a single word.”  
“That's true”, she agreed, looking up at him, “By the way, one of my favourite mottos is precisely _deeds, not words_ ”, she revealed him. He nodded, agreeing.  
“Talking about small gestures…”, he whispered, placing one hand on her cheek and kissing her. She draped her arms around his neck and reciprocated him with all her heart.

By dinnertime, Nives and Richard had returned to their room.  
“Are you hungry?”, the actor enquired while dressing.  
“Not much”, Nives confessed, making a funny face, “Between yesterday evening and today, I managed to eat far too much!”, she concluded giggling. Richard feigned a worried expression:  
“Hum, I’m afraid I’m not making you exercise enough…”, he joked. Nives burst into a loud laughter, almost doubling over breathless.  
“O no… on the contrary, I can assure you!”, she managed to cry at last.  
“So why aren’t you hungry?”, the British actor insisted, carrying on the jest.  
“I feed on love!”, she promptly replied; at this, he rose his hands in a yielding gesture.  
“I’ll get some sandwiches then”, he said.  
“I’ve got an idea!”, Nives exclaimed, “What about lighting the fireplace in the living room and eating sitting on the floor, like a picnic?”  
“Nice!”, Richard approved enthusiastically; he headed downstairs to take care of his sandwiches, while Nives carried a blanket to the living room and spread it in front of the fireplace, which she turned on. At this point, she headed to the kitchen, where she took the biggest bowl she could find and filled it up with salad. Richard stared at her, stunned.  
“Are you going for good to eat all that grass??”  
She nodded very earnestly:  
“I do it at home, too, when I get to eat too much. My dad says always that I look like a goat.”  
Richard hooted at this idiomatic expression.  
They dined picnic style, sitting on the coverlet in front of the fire roaring in the hearth, Richard with his sandwiches and Nives with her salad, drinking Müller Thurgau, a South Tyrolese white wine that she appreciated greatly.  
When they finished, they cleaned everything up and sat on the couch to watch TV. At that moment, Nives’ mobile phone chirped, signalling the arrival of a text message; thinking it could be her father from home, she read it. Richard saw her stiffening and pressing her lips together, fuming.  
“What is it?”, he asked, worried, “Bad news…?”  
Nives shook her head:  
“Not for me, but for my friend Bea. She took some days off her enterprise – she breeds and trains Friesians horses – entrusting it to her business partner, and her parents dared to reproach her for this, as if she abandoned her animals. You need to know that her parents have derided and hindered her, so I wonder just how they dare to write her a text asking her where she is and why she runs around the world instead of taking care of her horses, calling her an irresponsible, when they never gave a fuck about it!”, she concluded, furious, talking in the harsh way she used to when she got angry, “She, too, has the right to take some days off, besides Giorgio can perfectly care alone about the horses! They only want to make her feel guilty!”, she rose her middle finger, “I tell her now to reply with the comeback they deserve! They don’t have the slightest right to criticise her comings and goings, and should go to hell! And then she has to change her number so they’ll stop being a pain in the ass for her!”  
Richard had never seen her so upset and it struck him: this was all her passionate temperament coming out in defence of a person she loved, a characteristic he suspected existing in her, but up to now he never had the chance to see it. Besides, her language had shocked him a little because he never heard her talking dirty; but he wasn’t scandalised, sometimes he did it, too: so much for the famous British self-control. He frowned:  
“If that’s the case, I wonder, me too, how they dare to treat her this way: this is complete disrespect. I do respect a stray dog better than these people do with your friend”, he shook his head, “They deserve to go to hell.”  
“Precisely”, Nives confirmed, “What kind of parents are they, treating so badly a daughter? Better she cuts the cord with them… they may be her parents, the ones who gave birth to her, but they cannot use this to make her feel obligated to them for all her life, it’s not fair, after all, it wasn’t her to ask them to be born, now was she? It was them, who decided for her, if anything they are the ones to be obligated to her, not the other way around.”  
Richard rose an eyebrow in surprise: he never considered it from this point of view.  
“This makes a lot of sense”, he said.  
Nives nodded, glad to see he agreed, then she typed the answer for Beatrice; she needed many minutes, being it quite long.  
Meanwhile Richard pondered, feeling rather impressed. When Nives finished and sent the message, he considered:  
“You’re a very sweet woman, but you can be also very tough.”  
She nodded in confirmation:  
“You’re right: it’s my double nature, remember me telling you while driving to Windsor? Here my animal half came out, the horse which crushes and stomps on you because you made it mad…”  
“I love this passionate nature of yours”, he claimed, grabbing her hand and taking it to his lips, “but I confess, it scares me a little, too.”  
“There’s no reason”, she reassured him, “unless you push me too far, I’m the most placid person in the world… When someone wrongs me, maybe I can even stand it, at least for a while; but I get immediately pissed off if they mistreat someone I love”, she kissed his hand in turn, “Should somebody try to hurt you, I’d go as bad as hell”, she concluded.  
“As for this, I am the same way”, Richard said, “There’s only one thing I can’t stand not even for myself: the lack of respect.”  
“Well, that’s something driving me nuts, too”, Nives laughed.  
At this point, they switched on TV and looked for an interesting program; they ran into a British satellite channel broadcasting _Robin Hood_ and Nives stopped there. It was the episode when Guy tried the full armour and Marian found him shirtless while changing; he acted in a clearly seductive way, but she – being in love with Robin – even if showing some interest in his superb pectorals, didn’t heed him much.

  
“Good for her, that she didn’t let him lure her”, Nives grumbled, feigning jealousy, “or I enter the show and rip off her eyes!”  
She was obviously joking and therefore Richard grinned, but then he thought about it under a different light: that was a job of him in the past, finished, but what of the ones still to come? Actually, he already performed some in the movie _Sleepwalker_ , but didn’t mention them to her because, for him, it was just part of his job and didn’t mean anything to him.  
“Hum, how would you react if I’d have to perform love scenes?”, he asked her.  
She had already thought about it, in the early days of their relationship.  
“I wouldn’t be very happy with it, but it’s part of your job”, she answered slowly; he felt struck because these were exactly the same words he had thought, “Let’s say that, in the case of steamy scenes like in _Between the Sheets_ , I could get very jealous…”  
He laughed, relieved:  
“Luckily I have no need to accept anything they ask me to do. I’ll try to avoid too racy sex scenes, anyway…”  
“Not at all!”, Nives flared up, “Again, it’s the same thing we discussed the other day for _Hannibal_ : if you like a role, accept it and that’s all, whether or not there are sex scenes, I absolutely don’t want to hear that you keep yourself because of me, got it?”, she saw him still uncertain and therefore she insisted, “I’m serious, Richard.”  
As it had been the previous time, the British actor realised he couldn’t refuse without upsetting her.  
“Very well, then”, he yielded, then he addressed her his typical little smile, “Anyway from now on the love scenes will be much easier for me…”, seeing her putting on a mixed air of worry and perplexity, his smile broadened, “Yes, because I’ll just need to think the colleague I’m kissing is you…”  
He had done exactly this, with Ahna O’Reilly, his partner in _Sleepwalker_.  
Nives gave him a look so full of love, and he felt his heart literally jump to his throat in joy: he just couldn’t believe he could be the beneficiary of such a great devotion, fully reciprocated anyway. He took her hand again to his lips:  
“Did I already mention, today, that you’re fantastic?”  
She beamed, thrilled like every time he paid her a compliment.  
“A couple of times…”, she whispered, then she leaned over and kissed him, “I love you”, she murmured.  
“And I love you”, he replied, stroking her cheek in a very tender gesture.  
They finished watching the episode, then they had a nightcap with the last of the Torcolato – the sweet wine they had at lunch – and after turning on the dishwasher, they retired to bed for the night.


	7. Chapter VII: Friday, January 2nd, 2015

 

Chapter VII: Friday, January 2nd, 2015

Nives woke up in the warmth of Richard’s arms. She moved cautiously, afraid to disturb him, but a stinging pain in her shoulder made her whimper. He was in a twilight sleep and heard her.  
“What’s up, darling?”, he asked softly, worried. It was still dark, in the room, and he couldn’t see what had caused her groan; he turned on the light and saw that Nives was massaging her left shoulder. Noticing his concerned look, she explained:  
“This shoulder was badly hit when I crashed with my motorcycle… sometimes I feel it, but it’s nothing to worry about.”  
Richard recalled that, in London, she had told him about the accident she had several years before.  
“Come, let me massage you”, he offered, “I’m quite good at it, you know?”, he went on, helping her to get up sitting, “Just tell me where exactly it hurts…”  
He made her turn her back to him; under his hands, the actor felt the painfully contracted muscles, therefore he began with a delicate massage and then, as she relaxed little by little, went on more energetically. Nives sighed a number of times, halfway between ache and relief, while the pain was slowly passing.  
Finally, Richard bent over and spoke under his breath in her ear:  
“Better?”  
His warm breath, caressing the skin of her face and neck, made her shiver.  
“ _Much_ better”, she confirmed, turning and wrapping her arms around his neck, “You’re truly a good masseur… How much do I owe you for your professional performance?”, she concluded in a jestingly tone. He answered along her lines, smiling:  
“The treatment costs half a dozen kisses…”  
“Seems a fair price”, she replied, beaming back; she pushed him on the pillows and began to kiss him. After exactly six kisses, she stopped, showing she was thinking it over.  
“I believe you deserve a tip, too”, she said, laying on top of him and kissing him in a very serious way.  
They made love sweetly; Nives was very surprised at herself and at her constant longing for Richard. Sure, because of his job and because they lived far away from each other, they met rarely, but she was making love with him at least twice daily for five days and there was no sign she was going to diminish. Not even during her honeymoon had she been like this, and then she was much younger. The only explanation was – except the actor’s undeniable sex appeal – that it was he, _he and no other one_ , the man for her.

When they got up for their brunch, Richard asked her again:  
“Are you really sure you don’t feel lonely, being by yourself through the whole afternoon…?”  
She frowned, a little annoyed she had to reiterate; but then she realised he wanted only to make her happy. Therefore, she cancelled her scowl and instead beamed at him lovingly:  
“Yes, I’m sure, my charming British boy: go and ski, meanwhile I enjoy the spa and reading.”  
“If you like, tonight I can read to you another excerpt”, he offered. Nives thought about it.  
“Thanks”, she accepted, “there’s at least one more piece that moves me much: the departure from the Grey Havens. I cry each time I read it, or I see it in the movie.”  
Richard nodded:  
“Yes, you’re right, it’s a very moving moment.”  
“Changing the subject”, Nives went on, “I’m going to the supermarket: I finished the salad and I can’t simply do without. And bread, too, as there’s no more.”  
“Fine”, Richard nodded again.  
Therefore, after they finished eating, the actor took his leave with a kiss and exited, heading to the ski slopes; Nives searched in the internet the nearest supermarket and, after finding it, she took her car and headed for it. When she was done with shopping, she got back to the chalet; after placing the purchases in the fridge and in the pantry, she washed her hair: being it very long – it arrived down to her waist – it tended to dehydrate, but with the treatments she used, she was able to keep it shiny and soft as silk. Of course, she used special shampoo and conditioner, but her secret was simple and came from the ancient knowledge of her maternal grandmother: every night she rubbed the ends with linseed oil and then, once monthly, she made an olive oil pack, keeping it on for one hour and then washing it away.  
The afternoon passed eventless, both for Nives in the spa – where she couldn’t avoid thinking about what she and Richard had done in there the day before, smiling naughtily at it – and for the actor while skiing.  
At twilight, Nives heard a car arriving; she quickly donned her bathrobe and went upstairs, coming in the hall while Richard was entering it. She saw him addressing her his delicious little smile; following an irrepressible impulse, she rushed to him and jumped in his arms, kissing him passionately. Pleasurably engulfed, the actor grasped her and picked her up, reciprocating the kiss with equal fervour. When their lips parted, he whispered:  
“Hey, to what do I owe this _warm_ welcome…?  
She giggled and shrugged:  
“To nothing special, except I love you…”  
He held her tighter.  
“I love you too, my sweet Italian girl.”  
Nives planted a kiss on his lips, electrified as usual to hear him say this; after another kiss, Richard let her stand on her feet again and she pulled away, but took his hand.  
“Come on, let’s go and change”, she exhorted him, “and then you’ll read to me that excerpt, okay?”  
While Richard was showering, Nives dressed quickly, then headed downstairs to the kitchen and prepared the infusion resembling mulled wine, which both liked very much. Soon after, Richard joined her, so they went to the living room and sat on the couch, drinking the hot beverage.  
“Today I tried a new slope”, he told her, “very difficult. The worst thing was the start: just off the ski lift there’s a downhill, a few metres only but very steep. I had to jump like an ibex to the right and to the left, rather than bending, until the slope became easier. More than one tumbled spectacularly down, luckily with no consequences”, he concluded.  
“My father would tell you many adventures from the time he skied in Switzerland”, Nives said, “The enterprise he worked for organised yearly a trip to the most famous ski resorts, even the Olympic ones such as Sankt Moritz, or Arosa where they often have world championship races. He was very good at it, he did also the black slopes”, she concluded, referring to the most difficult grade, “As for me, I could barely manage the green ones”, she added, shaking her head, “I much prefer cross-country skiing.”  
“I didn’t think to suggest it”, Richard began, feeling sorry, “You could bring your gear and I rent it here…”  
“Next time”, she smiled, before realising she was making a long-term program, even one year. For a moment, she felt frightened: what guarantee had she that, a year from now, she would be still with the handsome English actor…? Then she drove away that vexatious thought: it was useless worrying about this, it would be what had to be. In the meantime, she would enjoy every single moment in his company.  
“So, are you ready for reading?”, she asked him.  
“Sure!”, he confirmed. He accepted the book she was handing him, already open to the chosen page, and like the night before, he went through the excerpt he was going to read. Then he began:  
“Then Elrond and Galadriel rode on; for the Third Age was over, and the Days of the Rings were passed, and an end was come of the story and song of those times…”  
Nives listened captivated to Richard’s rich baritone voice that, with his performance, was bringing to life the final scene of _The Lord of the Rings_. It didn’t take much for Nives to feel a lump in her throat and, when Gandalf pronounced the words _I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil_ , she could and would not restrain her tears, which she wiped while rolling down her cheeks. As the time before, only his great professionalism allowed Richard to control his feelings and to accomplish the reading, until the moment when Sam, having come home to his family after seeing the Elven ship set sail toward Valinor, said _Well, I’m back._  
“Wonderful”, Nives whispered, uncertain of her own voice.  
“It is”, Richard approved, “This book really is a great masterpiece.”  
“Certainly”, she confirmed, “but I was rather referring to your reading. I get emotional and cry each time I arrive at the end, but you added one more level to it. You’re a great actor”, she concluded, placing her small hands on his wide chest.  
“Reading isn’t that difficult…”, Richard began, placing his hand on hers, but he broke off as soon as he saw her admonishing glare:  
“Don’t you dare to diminish your talent with me, you hear me?”  
The Brit’s smile widened.  
“Alright, _amore mio_ ”, he promised, the last words in Italian. Nives felt her heart in her throat while staring in his eyes, which stared her back with such a great love. Would she ever get used to his endearments? She though she wouldn’t.  
“Ready for dinner?”, she asked, lightening the mood with a change of subject.  
“I’m _always_ ready to taste your cooking”, he assured her, “What do you have in mind, for tonight?”  
“One of my favourites”, she answered, “that is, _spaghetti alla carbonara_.”  
“I know that!”, he cried, content.  
“I know it’s a very popular recipe in Italian restaurants abroad, but they tend to use cream, covering the very distinctive flavour of this recipe”, Nives said, standing up, “You’ll taste the difference…”  
Richard, too, stood up, towering over her with his tall stature; she looked at him from below, chuckling:  
“You make me feel a Hobbit!”  
He grinned and, bending down, embraced her and rubbed his nose on her neck.  
“I assure you, you’re far sexier than Bilbo…”  
Nives laughed:  
“Should Martin hear you, he’d be terribly offended…!”, she joked, making Richard laugh, too.  
They headed to the kitchen, where Nives placed a pot full of water on the stove and then instructed Richard how to dice the _speck_ – a cured meat typical from South Tyrol – cutting off most of the fat, while she busied herself in preparing a bowl of salad that she would serve as a starter. After setting the table, Nives cooked the pasta; while she was frying the _speck_ in olive oil, Richard took from the fridge the bottle she had told him – a dry and slightly bitter white wine called Soave – and uncorked it.  
To Nives’ delight, Richard showed great appreciation both of food and wine; while eating, she told him the origin of the famous Italian pasta recipe: it was born in the Belgian coal mines – hence the name _carbonara_ , meaning _related to coal_ – where the Italian miners, needing rich food to bear the backbreaking fatigue of their job, thought about placing  _speck_ and eggs in the pasta. The pepper that seasoned it was only the recall of the coal dust permeating everything, even the food they ate.  
“You’re a truly inexhaustible source of information”, Richard commented, impressed. She shrugged:  
“It’s just that I’m very curious, therefore I take information about all kind of things, sometimes even trifles, and so it happens I discover very interesting things, like this one.”  
When they finished cleaning up, they watched TV a little while; when they got back in their room, Richard asked Nives a question he was pondering:  
“Tell me: what’s your favourite scene, of all my works? The one which thrills you the most?”  
“Hum, well… that’s not easy to tell”, Nives admitted; she furrowed her brow in the effort to focus, “For instance, I have chills each time I see the scene in _North and South_ where Margaret is going away and you look at her departing and you say…”  
Richard put a finger on her lips to stop her; she hushed, perplexed, but a moment later she understood his purpose:  
“Look back. Look back at me”, he enunciated, with the same tone he used in the show.

  
Nives’ heart skipped a beat; o Goddess, hearing him from the small screen made her tremble each time, but hearing him live thrilled her indescribably. Besides, he was staring at her lips with that avid look capable to raise butterflies in her stomach. She swallowed hard.  
“And then…”, she murmured, “the final scene, when he kisses her…”  
“You mean, like this…?”, Richard whispered, cupping her face. He slowly bent down and placed his lips on hers.  
Nives felt her knees turn into jelly. She clung to his shoulders and parted her lips, inviting him to a deep kiss that wasn’t in the show, but that he granted her lovingly.  
Pulling back, Richard looked into her eyes and saw them sparkling the way he liked to see them.  
“Other scenes?”, he asked; but she shook her head.  
“That’s enough for today”, she answered smiling, “because it’s Richard Armitage the one I really want.”  
This time it were his eyes, the ones to sparkle: one more time, he had proof that Nives liked him, the man, not one of his alter egos. He picked her up and took her to the bed, determined to make love to her in the sweetest way he could.

Saturday, January 3rd, 2015

Richard awoke around 7 o’clock; hearing Nives’ soft and regular breath, he realised she was still sleeping and therefore he closed his eyes again, while a smile curved his lips. He thought it was simply wonderful waking up next to her, and he knew this was one of the things he was going to miss the most in the coming months.  
Shortly after, Nives uttered a sigh and stirred, emerging from sleep. Richard brushed her arm to let her know he was awake and whispered in Italian:  
“ _Buongiorno amore mio_.”  
“ _Buongiorno a te_ ” (*), she answered, turning toward him and hugging him; even if it was dark, the actor sensed her smile. He turned on the light to see it, then he stroked her face and searched her lips for a small kiss.  
“Did you sleep well?”, he asked.  
“When I’m with you, I always sleep like a baby”, she answered. This statement, along with the things she told him two days earlier, arose a sudden suspect in his mind.  
“You mean that usually you don’t sleep well?”, he asked, vaguely troubled. Sensing his slight disquiet, Nives felt sorry, but realised she couldn’t hide it from him any longer.  
“Well, I…”, she began, uncertain how to get into it; as it always happened in such cases, she chose to go straight, “I suffer from depression for years. It began when my husband ended our marriage, but I managed to keep it under control, fighting it with every mean without taking drugs, but when two years ago my mother died, it has worsened… I began to sleep badly… I fall asleep even quickly, but then I wake up twice, thrice during the night, sometimes I have a hard time to fall again asleep, and then at five, half past five in the morning I wake up definitively. But…”, at this point she smiled at him, “when I sleep with you, it’s just perfect, I never wake up, not even once, and I sleep more.”  
So this was the explanation to the strange sentence she uttered in London, when she had mumbled he was better than a sleeping pill, Richard thought.  
“And when you don’t sleep with me?”, he asked, fearing the answer.  
“Since we’re together, it’s much better”, she reassured him, “I wake up only once or twice.”  
He scanned into her eyes.  
“Anything else?”, he enquired. For a moment, Nives pondered about lying because she didn’t want him to worry about her; but sincerity was a characteristic of hers, for better and for worse, and besides she was sure she would never convince him because he was too good at reading her.  
“Sometimes I feel down”, she therefore admitted, “but before it happened because I felt lonely, because I _was_ lonely, instead now it’s because I miss you, but I know that you’re there, thinking of me, loving me, and I know that if I want to, I can catch a plane and come to see you… So it’s a completely different thing…”  
He held her tight, almost choking her.  
“I’m sorry, baby… I’m so sorry”, he whispered in her hair, “If only it’d be somehow possible, I’d like to be with you all the time, to drive away forever your sadness…”  
“Thank you”, Nives whispered, moved, “but physical distance is nothing, knowing that you’re near with your heart, soul, feelings… Don’t feel bad for me, love, please, I don’t want you to…”  
“But how can I not worry about you? I love you, and for this reason what I want most in the world is your happiness…”  
“But _I am_ happy, Richard”, she confirmed, strongly, “Yeah, me too, I’d like to be with you all the time, or at least much more often, but _seldom_ is far better than _never_. And anyway, you send me a text each day, when we don’t talk through Skype, and this reassures me on you thinking of me, as much as I think of you; it’s such a great comfort and it’s enough for me until the next time we meet”, she moved over to him and kissed him, “Please, I can’t bear to see you upset, it makes me feel bad…”  
At these words, Richard made an effort to cheer up, or at least to look as he was.  
“Fine… but I want you to promise me something”, he let her go a little to look into her eyes, “Whatever be the time, day or night, whatever be the reason, serious or futile, when you feel down I want you to call me. Promise.”  
He was so terribly serious, that Nives felt a lump in her throat. She swallowed and nodded.  
“Don’t hesitate, please, even if it’s in the middle of the night”, he insisted, “I don’t care if I’m working, sleeping, showering: _I want you to call me_. The only reason I may not answer immediately is that maybe on set I can’t take my mobile phone with me, but as soon as I’d found your call, I’d call you back. Okay?”  
Again, Nives nodded.  
“Okay, I’ll do it”, she said, “I promise.”  
Richard, too, nodded, accepting her assurance, then he placed a hand on her cheek and kissed her tenderly.  
After this, they made love in a particularly intense way, not much with their bodies, but rather more with their souls.

Richard was sitting on a stool in front of the bar counter at the ski resort; he had just finished the last downhill of the day and, feeling thirsty, he was having a drink before going back to the chalet.  
He was checking his Twitter account, drinking slowly, when he heard a female voice addressing him in an impeccable English:  
“Excuse me… You’re Richard Armitage, aren’t you?”  
It wasn’t the first time someone recognised him, during this vacation, but so far they just stared at him surprised or perplexed, even because most of the time, wearing cap, ski goggles and scarf, he was virtually unrecognisable. But right now his face was uncovered and therefore well identifiable.  
He looked up to a gorgeous blonde girl, wrapped in a snowsuit _second-skin-style_ in a showy fuchsia colour with bright yellow stripes, shouting _look at me because I’m hot_ , what for him translated automatically in a sensation of repulsion.  
“Yeah, that would be me, but please keep it to yourself”, he answered, forcing out a humorous tone.  
“Of course”, she assured him, beaming from ear to ear, “I don’t want to expose you to the assault of other fans… I assume you’re here in vacation?”  
“That’s right…”  
“Do you like Cortina?”  
“Yeah, pretty much”, _but not for the reason you think_ , he added to himself.  
“Me, too; indeed I come here every year for New Year’s Eve… Oh, by the way, my name’s Silvia. Silvia Prada.”  
He arched his eyebrows:  
“Like the famous brand manufacturing shoes and purses?”  
“Actually, I’m the daughter”, the girl smiled; she pulled the stool next to his and sat down, “Gosh is it hot inside here…”, she sighed, sexily crossing her legs and lowering the zipper of her suit down to her breasts. Involuntarily, Richard followed the movement with his eyes; if she wore something under he suit, it had to be very low-necked, because he didn’t see any trace of underwear. He looked up again at her face, amused by her cheeky seductive attitude, but completely indifferent to it: even if undoubtedly beautiful, in his eyes Silvia Prada was far less attractive than Nives Nardini.  
“Quite”, he admitted, just to say something. Again, Silvia beamed at him her thousand-watt-smile.  
“You know, I’m a great fan of yours”, she revealed, “I’ve seen all of your movies and shows, or almost all… I think you’re a formidable actor.”  
“Well, thanks…”, he answered, out of pure politeness. He liked compliments, of course, but not when they came with the evident intention to seduce him. When he was at the beginning of his career, this kind of interest made his head spin, but in time, he had become disgusted of it; his good friend Lee Pace contemplated it in the same way, because this kind of women – or men – weren’t interested in the person, but in the fame accompanying him. They just wanted to _do_ the celebrity to later brag about it. They didn’t give a damn about the man behind the celebrity.  
“Can I have your autograph?”, Silvia asked him, bending over to him and showing off her cleavage. He didn’t drop his gaze.  
“Gladly”, he answered, still nicely but in a remote attitude, trying to make her understand he wasn’t at all interested in her.  
Silvia ignored his tone and rummaged in her black leather belt bag – with the brand _Prada_ in plain sight – wrapping her hips like a sash, highlighting her perfect curves; she took out a gold pen and a booklet, perhaps an organiser, and handed them to him. He took them, eluding carefully her fingers, and was about to sign a random empty page, when she placed one hand on his wrist and said, in a low and suggestive tone:  
“Would you make it out to me?”  
At this point, Richard was really annoyed and frowned, but as it was his usual style, he avoided saying something rude.  
“What would you like me to write?”, he asked, coldly.  
“What about _to our exciting encounter on the snow in Cortina_?”, she suggested, not realising she was involuntarily offering him a foothold.  
“I don’t believe my fiancée would approve of it”, he said, seraphic, “and her approval is very important to me”, he added, beginning to scribble something, not giving her time to reply, “There you are”, he concluded, placing booklet and pen on the counter so to avoid any possible contact with her.  
She glanced at the script: he wrote simply _To miss Silvia Prada, Richard Armitage_. She made an unsatisfied face, but promptly hided it.  
“Thank you”, she said, picking up the objects, “very kind of you. It’s been a pleasure. My best to you and your fiancée”, she concluded, standing up and rushing away. Richard sighed internally in relief: holding off a fan, even if annoying, clashed with his gentlemanly nature and therefore he always felt very uncomfortable when it occurred.  
Sighing, he let go of Twitter and finished quickly his drink, paid and exited the bar. It was almost twilight; he got into the rented SUV and drove to the chalet.  
When he came home, the found Nives welcoming him as usual with an aromatic infusion; it has become a pleasurable habit, as it was very cold and infusions warmed him up quickly, besides they were always delicious. Tonight it was a blend of orange and papaya.  
They had established another habit, during these days, to which Richard hinted while they drank the hot beverage in the living room:  
“What kind of culinary specialty will you use to spoil me, tonight?”  
“A rice timbale with artichokes and _mozzarella_ ”, she answered smiling; she had to look into the online dictionary to find the translation for _timbale_ and _artichoke_ , while _mozzarella_ was international, as well as many others typically Italian specialties.  
“What’s a timbale?”, he asked, intrigued.  
“You’ll see”, Nives beamed, winking.  
“Alright… but whatever it is, I bet it’s delicious”, the British actor claimed, “I never ate better in all my life, than these days.”  
“Oh come on, don’t exaggerate”, Nives brushed aside his compliment, “I bet that your mom, too, cooks well.”  
“Absolutely, but Italian cuisine has… I don’t know, an extra kick. Not for nothing it’s renowned all over the world, unlike the British one.”  
This Nives couldn’t argue with, being it the simple truth.  
“Good, now go and change”, Nives exhorted him, standing up, “I begin to prepare the timbale, it’s a quite long job.”  
“Do you need help?”, Richard immediately volunteered.  
“No, that’s fine, there’s nothing complicated, it’s just that it takes time: the secret is in the slow cooking…”  
Richard went upstairs; looking forward to be with Nives, he hurried to get ready and came downstairs again. In the kitchen, he found her adding some water and vegetable stock cube to the artichokes, which she was cooking frying then in olive oil and chopped onions; from the door opening to the living room music arrived – this time new age – and he remembered her telling him she liked to work at home with background music.  
Seeing him, she beamed at him, while mixing in the pot with a wooden spoon. He got near her and glanced over her shoulder, inhaling the aroma coming from the vessel.  
“Mmmmhh, smells good…”, he commented, “You’re truly an excellent cook. Tell me: are you all like this, you Italian girls?”  
“Yes, mostly, I think”, Nives answered; she set the lid over the artichokes and turned down the heat, turning toward him. She had tilt back her head, because he was almost all over her, “I know very few among my friends who are not able to cook well; I think it’s due to the fact that Italian cuisine is one of the most renowned in the world, as you said before. Anyway, also a great number of men I know are excellent cooks”, she concluded, “I think for the same reason.”  
“I’m enough good at cooking”, he revealed, “but I much more prefer eating.”  
“I know”, she laughed, “I remember an interview where they asked you if you prefer cooking or baking, and you answered concisely _eating_!”  
He smiled at her his typical little smile:  
“Hey, how many interviews of mine have you been reading?”  
“So many, I lost count. I wanted to know everything about you, or at least everything you were disposed to share with the world…”, she sobered suddenly, “I’d never imagine, at that time, that I would come to know you in person… and in such an intimate way…”  
It was plain she wasn’t referring to physical intimacy, not only.  
“You know”, she went on, dropping her gaze, like feeling awkward, “I think I’ll never get used to the idea that you – my impossible love, my fangirl’s dream – are in love with me for real…”, he voice sank to a whisper, “As I’ll never truly believe you won’t get tired of me…”  
A sudden lump stuck in her throat, preventing her to go on. Richard was about to frown because he thought Nives didn’t trust him, but seeing her very distressed, his discontent cooled off immediately, replaced by sympathy: it wasn’t as if she didn’t trust him, or herself, but simply the destiny. She had been hurt so deeply by her husband’s behaviour, that now she couldn’t believe to be so lucky to be with a man who would never abandon her, for the rest of her life. The wrapped her in his arms.  
“Give me the opportunity to prove you wrong”, he said under his breath, leaning his forehead on hers. She felt her skin tingle intensely, in a precise spot between her eyebrows, exactly where the Indian Ayurveda places the Third Eye. Her yoga master told her once that it happens only between people who are in a deep harmony with one another. She held her breath in surprise, then released it slowly.  
“Yes”, she murmured, “Of course I give you this opportunity, _amore mio_ …”  
She pronounced the last two words  in Italian; since he told her he liked to hear her talking her mother language, she dotted her sentences with words she knew he was familiar with.  
“That’s all I ask”, he reiterated, holding her tight and making her lay her head on his shoulder, cuddling her, “You’re everything to me”, he went on, softly, “My life without you would have no meaning…”  
They stayed there, embracing, for a long time; her arms around his waist, Nives listened to Richard’s heartbeat, her eyes wet with tears, grateful that destiny had allowed her to meet this extraordinary man, so similar to the ideal she had built of him, to seem unreal. He was rocking her, slowly swaying at the sound of the music coming from the stereo in the living room.  
Finally, struck by the thought the artichokes risked to burn, Nives pulled away and hastily checked the pan where they were cooking, then satisfied turned again toward him.  
“Shall we set the table?”, she suggested.  
“I’ll take care of that”, Richard said, heading for the dining room.  
The timbale, shaped like a big donut, was both tasty and aesthetically pleasurable; it came with an excellent white wine called Verduzzo _dorato_ , the last word meaning _golden_.  
After dinner, while drinking coffee in the living room, sitting on the couch in front of the hearth where a nice fire was burning, Richard told Nives about Silvia Prada.  
“Good thing that, when I mentioned _my fiancée_ , she retreated”, he concluded, shaking his head, “I was already imagining her jumping me…”  
Nives wasn’t a jealous woman by nature, but in that moment she was fuming.  
“If I’d be there, I’d have her struck down in a moment”, she claimed, “Slimy little pussycat. Good for her I wasn’t there!”  
“Love, you’ve got no reason to be jealous, believe me”, Richard tried to mollify her, “A chick like her is capable only to shut down any possible interest from my part. At the beginning I was flattered to be able to arouse so much interest in women, but in time embarrassment took over, and sometimes I’m just annoyed, like this time.”  
Nives shook her head:  
“I trust you, Richard”, she assured him, “and anyway, my mother said that jealousy is a waste of time, because if your partner really wants to cheat on you, he or she will do it regardless of you being jealous or not”, she shrugged, “But I _hate_ those sluts who, just because they’re pretty and rich, believe they can sweep any man off his feet. Good thing she retreated after you told her to be engaged”, then her optimistic and sunny personality took over again and she grinned, “And I thought that by now _everyone_ on this planet knew about it!”  
“I’m not that famous, after all”, Richard pointed out, shaking his head, “Just think of Johnny Depp or Leonardo DiCaprio…”  
“They’re maybe more famous than you, but I like none of them as much as you, both as an actor and as a man”, Nives smiled, then she sighed, “When I recall how I came to meet you, I think the gods operate in mysterious ways… If I wouldn’t tell Lorraine my wish – that I thought impossible – to go to London to see Richard Armitage in _The Crucible_ , we’d never meet…”  
“You mean, you came there with the express purpose to seduce me?”, Richard pretended to be shocked, glad to lighten the mood. Nives laughed:  
“I didn’t even count on being noticed by you in the crowd of ecstatic fangirls outside the theatre, much less on seducing you!”  
“Instead just one look was enough”, he said, smiling one of those tiny smiles of his. She stared at him, suspiciously:  
“Oh come on… just a look?”, she said under her breath. He seemed to ponder.  
“No, you’re right, not just that: a smile, too”, he claimed very earnestly. Nives felt butterflies in her stomach, as usual when he made such statements, and looked at him with adoring eyes. Richard felt moved and wrapped her in his arms.  
“I’ve been irremediably caught by you, wonderful creature. And I’m so happy about it, sometimes I think it’s just a dream.”  
Thrilled, Nives stopped to breathe; wordless, she stood up on her tiptoes and kissed him fervently. Richard kissed her back with as much as ardour.  
“You know, I thought about something for tomorrow”, he whispered after the kiss.  
“What?”  
“Being it the last full day you’ll stay here, I don’t feel like wasting a minute to be with you, and therefore I decided I won’t go skiing. Anyway, I have two more days to do it…”  
Nives’ eyes sparkled; she felt both delighted and excited:  
“Shall we do like in London?”  
“Exactly what I had in mind…”

 

(*)  
“Good morning (day) my love.”  
“Good morning (day) to you.”


	8. Chapter VIII: Sunday, January 4th, 2015.

 

Chapter VIII: Sunday, January 4th, 2015.

Richard emerged from sleep and felt immediately the warmth and softness of Nives’ body leaning against his. It was simply wonderful waking up next to her and he wholeheartedly hoped he could do it for the rest of his life, even if for the moment he couldn’t do it each day. This thought brought another one, that this was the last full day he could spend with her over a surely long period; this saddened him and he reacted by wrapping one arm around her, trying to be as quiet as possible in order not to awake her.  
Half awake, Nives felt his gentle hug and immediately her heart overflew with the pure and simple joy to be held like this by Richard Armitage. She always hated it when they woke her up – except for some emergency, as it unfortunately occurred sometimes during her mother’s last years of life – but now she felt an indescribable happiness. With a content sight, she moved a little forward and kissed Richard’s naked shoulder.  
“I’m sorry…”, he began apologetically, but she cut him off smiling:  
“Don’t be, it’s simply _too_ good waking up in your arms…”  
“And for me it’s _too_ good waking up with you in my arms”, he murmured. In the faint light coming from the heavy curtains covering the windows, Nives heard, more than seeing it, the smile in his voice.  
“ _Ti amo, mio bel ragazzo britannico_ ” (*), she told him in Italian.  
“Me too, _ti amo_ ”, he answered, half in one language and half in the other; he had caught only _ti amo_ and _britannico_ , but he guessed the rest. He held her tighter and kissed her; Nives reciprocated with immediate enthusiasm: she never had enough of Richard’s kisses, of his caresses, of his voice… of all of him.  
“It’s too dark here”, the actor said, “I want to see you… to fill up my eyes of you…”  
It was such a romantic sentence, that Nives’ heart raced in rapture; she stroked his cheek, then he got up and quickly opened the curtains. The sun had just risen and instantly flooded the room with light. Then Richard got back to bed and took her again in his arms.  
Nives beamed naughtily:  
“Well, are we going to stay in bed all day, making love…?”  
“That would be my schedule, yes”, he confirmed, glad she thought alike; with her, he felt insatiable, but it looked like all the same was for Nives and this excited him very much, “Any idea on how to begin?”, he teased her.  
She looked at him, for a moment caught off guard; then a very smart smile lifted the corners of her mouth and Richard knew he was in trouble.  
“Once I had a dream about Porter”, she began, “A very vivid dream… and very exciting…”  
“Really…?”, he asked, “And… what did you dream, exactly?”  
She hesitated a moment; she wanted to be sure he remembered well she didn’t confuse the performer with the characters, so she pointed out:  
“Before getting to know you, obviously I got to know your characters: Thorin, Thornton, Porter, Guy, Lucas… I fell in love with all of them… but none is _you_. You know this, do you?”, she waited for him to nod in confirmation; after he did, reassured she went on, “Among all these characters, you already know John Porter is my favourite. I had just finished watching _Strike Back_ when I had this dream…”, she paused to collect her thoughts, then she began to tell him, “Porter is no longer on active duty, he gave it up to be with his daughter who’s motherless, and now he’s an instructor. I am a government agent, undercover in Section 20 with the task of flush out a mole, and I’m madly in love with Porter, but I don’t know if he returns my feelings or not. Unfortunately the mole succeeds in framing me as the culprit and I’m arrested, but I escape and take shelter in a storage room; but Porter catches me and I try desperately to convince him that I’m innocent, begging him to help me. I even offer myself to him… and he accepts, because he loves me as much as I love him. Then a… hum… very _hot_ scene follows…”  
“Looks like an actual spy story”, Richard commented, amused and aroused at the same time, “You surely have a brilliant imagination…”  
She chuckled:  
“Thanks… After all, I wouldn’t be an amateur writer, if I hadn’t a brilliant imagination.”  
“Right… But, did you tell me about it because you’d like to perform the scene, roleplay game style?”  
Again, Nives hesitated.  
“At the beginning, yes”, she admitted, feeling suddenly embarrassed, “but thinking better… I don’t care about Porter, I care only about Richard Armitage. Forget it…”, she concluded.  
“Not at all”, he said, surprising her, “You can’t make me forget about it after provoking me…”  
“But… I think it’s a silly idea…”, she tried to protest; she didn’t want him to do it just to please her.  
“It’s not silly”, he contradicted her, “it’s _funny_!”, he beamed. By now, he was enough sure Nives didn’t confuse him with his characters to know that he wouldn’t mind performing one of them just for fun.  
Nives watched him, still a bit uncertain; but he was determined.  
“Very well then”, she finally accepted, “but… I never did anything like this”, she confessed, “I don’t know exactly what to do…”  
“Neither did I”, he admitted, “I like it, that it’s a _first time_ for both of us…”, he added, glancing at her sidelong with a terribly sexy expression.  
“Oh…”, breathed Nives, then she beamed; she, too, liked the idea that for both of them this was a new thing, “Well, you’re the actor here: any suggestion?”, she urged him chuckling.  
“The dream is yours, yours the plot”, Richard pondered, “Perform you part, I’ll improvise on the basis of what you told me and of your actions and words while going.”  
“Well, first of all, we should dress…”  
Soon after, Richard threw open the door of the bathroom and stormed into the bedroom. He had no gun to wield, so he pointed his forefinger to Nives, who jumped and pivoted to look at him, alarmed.  
“Freeze right there”, he commanded. For a moment, she held her breath, in awe: with no need of any makeup, Richard had _become_ SAS sergeant John Porter. His incredible acting ability would never cease to strike her.

  
She rose her hands.  
“I’m unarmed…”, she said, faintly. She didn’t recall exactly all the lines of her dream, which she had turned into a fan fiction, but it didn’t matter.  
“Everybody’s after you”, _Porter_ informed her.  
“I’m not the mole!”, she claimed forcefully, “They framed me!”  
He frowned.  
“That’s what _you_ say…”  
“But it’s true! The leaks began a lot earlier than my arrival… and anyway, do you really think they’d catch me, if I were the mole? I’m a far too good hacker to leave any trace, you know that by yourself…”  
This was a prompt, because Richard couldn’t know the plot details. He guessed it quickly and followed her lead:  
“You’re right”, he admitted, “but then, who’s the real mole?”  
“I’m here exactly to track him down”, Nives revealed, “on behalf of the Ministry of Defence. I have three suspects, but I can’t tell you who they are, not without proof. Evidently the real spy feels my breath down his neck and acted so to have me framed and get rid of me…”  
_Porter_ kept his glare, indicating he wasn’t completely convinced. Therefore, Nives played the seduction card:  
“Please, help me”, she begged him, walking toward him wiggling her hips in a provocative way; in the dream – and in the fan fiction – she unbuttoned two buttons of her shirt, but here she was wearing a sweater and couldn’t do it, “I’ll do anything you want… _Anything_ , John…”  
_Porter_ ’s posture lost a little of its stiffness.  
“Truly… _anything_?”, he murmured, while she wrapped her arms around his waist.  
“Yes”, Nives confirmed, “truly _anything_.”  
She rose he face to his, her lips parted in an unmistakable invitation; _Porter_ enclosed her in his arms and dropped his gaze to her mouth.  
“Very well…”, he said; his voice, deep and hoarse, made her quiver deep inside. Then Porter’s lips seized hers and his tongue crossed them in a deep and longing kiss. Nives felt a burning desire flaring up inside of her and reciprocated him with the same longing, rubbing her body against his. She heard him groan.  
“Oh baby…”, he whispered on her lips, “You’re so alluring…”  
He kissed her again while caressing her back, down to the curve of her buttocks, and then he pressed her against his body, making her feel how much he wanted her.  
“No… no need for you to do it”, he panted, “I’ll help you anyway…”  
This wasn’t in the _script_ of Nives’ dream, where Porter simply accepted her offer of sex in exchange of his help; but it was fine, because Porter was a man of honour and would never take advantage of a woman in such a vile way. Actually, the premise of his ready acceptation was, he was in love with her as much as she was with him.  
She looked for a line to justify the continuation to the expected conclusion.  
“It’s okay”, she reassured him, “Actually, I don’t want to make love with you only to get your help...”  
“Really…?”, he murmured, bending lower to nip at the soft skin on her throat.  
“Y… yes…”, Nives gasped. At this point, he slipped his hands under her sweater; gently, he climbed along her hips and finally cupped her breasts. He found out she didn’t wear a bra; his breath caught in his throat because he hadn’t expected it. Excited, he brushed her nipples with his thumbs, finding them hard and longing to be touched; her moan excited him even more. He lifted the hem of her sweater and she pulled back to allow him slipping if off her. Before he could do anything else, Nives began to unbutton his flannel shirt; he, too, wore nothing under it. While pushing the garment down his shoulders, she took one nipple in her mouth and brushed it sensually with her tongue; satisfied, she heard him groan.  
The shirt fell on the floor; free from it, Richard enjoyed her lips on his chest a little longer, then he pulled back to unfasten her pants. Nives let him and when the garment dropped, she kicked it away. She was barefoot, therefore now she was wearing only black silken culottes, decorated on the front with a tiny red bow.  
Unaware that he was acting exactly as in Nives’ dream and in the resulting fan fiction, Richard picked her up and carried her to the bed, then he tossed his jeans and boxer briefs.  
Nives stared at his stunning physique, feeling her internal muscles twist in longing; before he could lay down at her side, she sat up and closed her fingers around his stiff manhood, stroking its full length. He trembled and uttered a long, ecstatic groan.  
“Careful…”, he warned her, “This way I’ll soon lose my head…”  
“Exactly what I want…”, she said, before bending down and closing her lips around him. Richard jumped and uttered another groan.  
“You want me _dead_ …”, he wheezed; she smiled, but didn’t answer, too busy to pleasure him. Delighted, Richard let her do it, but when he felt almost exploding, he drew back.  
“My turn”, he said, hoarsely. He knelt beside the bed and made Nives sit in front of him, slipping between her legs; then he kissed her and slowly accompanied her to lay down on the mattress. He left her mouth and moved lower, his lips brushing her neck and chest, finally petting her nipples, one after the other; meanwhile his hands slid down her body, following its frame. He slipped one hand under the rim of her culottes, touched the dark curls adorning her femininity, descended lower until he found her most sensitive spot. He caressed it skilfully and Nives trembled and moaned; that sound captivated him. He kissed her nipples one last time, then his mouth descended on her throbbing tummy, lingering one moment on her belly button, until he reached her knickers; at this point, he hooked its sides and lowered them. She moved, making it easier for him, and one moment later the garment was on the floor.  
Straightening his back, Richard relished the view of Nives naked under him, stretched out on the bed like a starfish, breathtakingly hot; then he bent down and brushed her womanly flower with his lips, tasting its delicious nectar.  
Feeling him teasing her in this sensual way, Nives uttered a muffled cry; a raging fire invaded her womb. She rotated her pelvis to give him a better access and in response he licked her even deeper. Nives felt like fainting.  
“Please… please…”, she stammered.  
Richard wasn’t able to hold back any longer; tasting greedily on his lips her sweet juices, he pulled away from the centre of her body and straightened his back. Grabbing her by her hips, he slid inside of her, moving cautiously despite the furious desire devouring him; not so much to his own benefit, but to give pleasure to Nives: hearing her love cries, feeling her flesh contracting around his, watching her face transfigure in the culminating moment was an overwhelming sensation. He had always been a generous lover, but never before had it been so much more important to him to satisfy his partner rather than himself.  
Nives closed her eyes, overwhelmed, and welcomed him with a delighted moan, rising toward him. Richard laid his hands next to her head and began to move; she reopened her eyes and looked at him with pleasure-clouded eyes, finding out he was staring at her. She felt a lump in her throat: it thrilled her deeply that he always kept eye contact, because this gave to their lovemaking a not only physical, but also spiritual and sentimental dimension.  
Richard drew back, slowly as much as he had moved forward, and then plunged back again, taking care in stroking the most sensitive spot inside of her.  
Nives was breathless out of pleasure and uttered a muffled cry; her love call thrilled Richard indescribably and he felt his heart throb in his throat. Encouraged, he pushed himself up on his arms, changing his angle, and sped up. He brushed repeatedly her magical button, and she arched under him, moaning. He half-closed his eyes while enjoying those pleasure cries, music to his ears.  
“Baby, you’re so hot… in every sense…”, he gasped. She liked the compliment as much as the feeling of him inside of her, moving skilfully. She felt the culmination drawing nearer and, unaware of it, began to voice louder and louder moans while pleasure increased; when she reached the peak, she widened her eyes, amazed, and screamed:  
“Oooohhh Richaaaaard!”  
“Nives...!”, he sighed, then the orgasm swamped him away in turn and shaking hard he emptied himself, panting her name several times.  
Quivering in pleasure, their breathes laboured, they clung to each other for long moments, until the tidal wave of delight drew back, leaving them spent. Richard laid down back on Nives, leaning his forehead on hers; she closed her arms around him and held him tight. When finally their racing heartbeats calmed down and their breaths were back to normal again, he rose his head to look into her eyes. A smile hovered around his lips.  
“What are you laughing at…?”, Nives asked him, her tone still languid because of pleasure.  
“Who’s Richard?”, he retorted, grinning. For one moment, the question confused her, then she recalled their roleplay game and giggled.  
“My one and only love”, she answered under her breath. Richard felt a lump in his throat: there was definitely no risk she confused him with one of his characters, even when he was performing one for her. He kissed her sweetly.

Around half past eleven, after a second _love-round_ , they went downstairs, hungry; in the kitchen, Nives took from the fridge eggs, bacon, ham, cheese, butter and jam, while Richard grabbed from a shelter sliced bread and slipped it in the toaster, then he busied himself with the eggs, frying them in the non-stick pan with the bacon. Soon after, they sat at the counter and ate.  
While spreading butter on a slice of toasted bread, Richard glanced at Nives.  
“I heard that, when two female friends talk intimately about their men, they’re very cheeky”, he said, “I was wondering how much truth there is in this…”  
“All the truth in the world”, she answered chuckling, “Women can be tremendous, when talking freely about men.”  
“I can’t believe a classy woman would speak in a trash-mouthed way”, the actor objected, perplexed.  
“It’s not about being trash-mouthed”, Nives replied, “but about being frank and straight. No turn of phrases, hints, double-meanings, but straight to the point. Don’t ask me for an example, though… this is a way of speaking we use only when we’re sure nobody is listening, even other women.”  
“I don’t understand… if you’re close to your man, if you trust him, what’s wrong about him hearing you?”, Richard asked, frowning slightly. Nives shrugged.  
“It has nothing to do with being close or trust someone, it’s just one of those things women prefer keep to themselves. If you like, as an example, I give you a _light_ version…”, she pretended to address a friend, “This morning, Richard made love to me in a fabulous way. He’s really sublime, in bed…”  
Richard felt his ears burn.  
“Got it”, he muttered, “Very well, I won’t ask you to be more explicit…”  
Nives couldn’t stifle a laugh: it was really incredible how a big boy, a man of the world like him, having great experience in life, too, could easily be embarrassed. He was truly _adorkable_ … and this characteristic made her love him even more.  
They finished eating, then they got back to their room to spend a long afternoon full of love. That evening would be the last one they dined together and they decided to order pizza, like the first evening, so they wouldn’t waste time cooking.  
Entering in their room, Richard took Nives by surprise engulfing her in an embrace.  
“Thanks for you compliment”, he whispered in her ear, “Know that you are _sublime_ , too, in bed…”  
Feeling his warm breath on her skin made her shiver, while she blushed profusely for the appreciation he was showing. She never thought to be a particularly skilled lover and learning he instead thought she was even _sublime_ left her speechless.  
“Thank you…”, she managed to murmur; and suddenly she decided to express him all her skill. With a very naughty grin, she took his hand and led him to the bed; her rascal face alerted immediately Richard about her intentions and his manhood throbbed in anticipation, not only because of the physical pleasure he knew was waiting for him in Nives delicious claws, but also because of his feelings for her.  
“I love you”, he said, before being silenced by a breath-taking kiss. Afterwards, he thought only about being hers.

They went again downstairs around 7 o’clock; Nives called the pizzeria and ordered their pizzas.  
“They’ll be here in 40 minutes”, she announced, “What about a drink, while waiting?”  
“I’d love it”, Richard accepted, “Meanwhile I turn on the fire and set the table.”  
She went to the kitchen, where she took the _prosecco_ wine from the fridge; she poured it in two glasses with some ice, added the same quantity of water and a dash of the _Campari_ she bought when she went shopping to the supermarket, creating the variety of _spritz_ she liked best.  
She got back to the living room, placing the tray with the glasses and the bowl of chips on the coffee table; Richard finished quickly setting the table and joined her. Nives handed him one of the glasses and they toasted and took a sip.  
“I adore seeing you all ruffled”, she claimed smiling softly; realising he completely forgot to comb his hair, he quickly ran his fingers through it.

  
“But”, he said, pretending perplexity, “don’t you always say you like me better clean shaved and dressed up…?”  
“Yes I do; but what I like about seeing you all ruffled, is to know that I am the cause”, she explained with a mischievous grin; Richard grinned, too, feeling pleased.  
Then his eyes fell upon the thick book placed on the coffee table.  
“Is there another part I can read to you?”, he asked, gesturing toward the tome. Nives followed the direction of his gaze and saw her favourite novel; she smiled at him, happy about his offer.  
“If you really like doing it…”, she began, and at Richard’s affirmative nod, went on, “My third favourite piece is when the eagles arrive at the battle in front of the Morannon…”  
“Another very riveting moment”, the actor agreed, nodding. He took the book and looked for the matching chapter; as before, he skimmed through it and then began to read. Again, Nives felt completely captivated in his narration and listened entranced to his voice while he performed, rather than read, the scene, dramatically describing the clash of the army of the Free Peoples of the West and Sauron’s overwhelming armed force, in front of the access to Mordor, with no hope of winning, being their only purpose to avert the Eye from Frodo and Sam, who were taking the One Ring to Mount Doom.  
When he finished, Nives stayed a moment in complete silence, struggling to come back from Middle-earth where Richard had carried her, a lump in her throat.  
“Simply exceptional”, she finally managed whispering, glancing at Richard, who had set down the book at his side, “If you’d record an audiobook, it would literally…”, she paused, not knowing how to translate the idiomatic expression; yielding, she completed, “In Italian, we say something like _people would be willing_ _to steal it_ out of eagerness to have it.”  
He nodded; it sounded odd, as it often happens to literal translations, but the meaning was clear.  
“ _It’d fly out off the shelves_ ”, he suggested.  
“Yes, that”, she nodded, understanding the expression, “An audiobook of _The Lord of the Rings_ read by you would be a tremendous success.”  
Richard beamed at her:  
“I can always record it and give it to you as a gift.”  
Nives gaped:  
“You’d do it for me…?”  
He took her hand and brought it to his lips, placing a kiss on it.  
“For you, this and more”, he said. Her incredulous and happy expression rose butterflies in his stomach.  
“Okay, but I don’t demand The Lord of the Rings”, she said under her breath, “I’m good with _The Hobbit_ … or _The Mists of Avalon_ by Marion Zimmer Bradley. Or even the first book of the _Dune_ saga by Frank Herbert…”  
“You like _Dune_?”, Richard cried in surprise, “I adore it!”  
“Me, too! Along with _Foundation_ by Asimov, it’s my favourite science fiction saga”, Nives confirmed. Richard was beaming from ear to ear, so much was he glad having found another fan of these novels.  
“Weren’t they _Star Trek_ and _Star Wars_?”, he asked, recalling her telling him.  
“Yep, from the television and movie point of view, but here we were speaking about literature.”  
“Right… Tell me, who’s your favourite character in _Star Trek_?, he enquired.  
“In the Original Series, I was in love with Spock!”, Nives cried, laughing, causing Richard rising an eyebrow, in perfect imitation of the just named character, a mimicry that made her laugh even harder, “In the reboot, I must admit that the new Kirk is very sexy”, she added, causing another eyebrow rising, “but my absolute favourite character is Jadzia Dax from _Deep Space Nine_ , not for nothing my trek alter ego is a Trill as she is: let me introduce myself, I’m doctor Elanor Yaht, chief medical officer of the _USS Palladium_ , united trill with a symbiont at its fifth incarnation, and all the previous hosts were men.”  
“Hum… I’m not a great expert about _Star Trek_ , I don’t remember exactly who the Trills are…”  
“A species whose members carry inside of them another being”, Nives explained, “with whom they live in symbiosis; when the host dies, the symbiont passes on another host carrying with it his or hers memories and experiences. My alter ego, for example, is the fifth host of her symbiont and has therefore the memories and the experiences of four other people. As I said, all male: a martial art champion, a dancer, an explorer and a writer…”  
“I understand the activities”, Richard nodded, “they mirror your passions: Kung Fu, dance, travels and writing. But why all male?”, he enquired, half amused and half perplexed.  
“In homage to my rather _male_ personality, according to the psychological tests I took as a girl.”  
“You seem very feminine to me…”, he objected. Nives smiled at him:  
“Because you didn’t see me infuriated with that truck-driver I threatened to grab off his truck and beat the living daylight out of him!”  
“What, what??”  
“It was during the time I was doing Kung Fu”, she told him, “and one day his _big_ idiot on his _big_ truck swings out in front of me and I nearly slam into it. I opened the window and yelled at him, but instead of apologising – I mean, everyone can get distracted for a moment, right? – he even mocked me. Therefore I shouted at him _hey, I take you off that truck and roast you and your damn truuuuuck!_ ”, Nives made a baleful face and gestured threateningly while growling in a way that had Richard’s hair stand on end, then she went on coolly, “Actually, I was perfectly calm, but I pretended to be fuming to impress him. And indeed the truck-driver stared at me, eyes almost popping out, put his truck in gear and was off like a hare. And I tell you, the faces of the other bystanders were worth an Oscar… I was 25 years old and I was all well dressed and with all my make-up because I was going to work, and he was the classic truck-driver, big and bad and even ugly…”, she concluded, laughing.  
“And maybe even smelly!”, Richard added, grinning, “I guessed it, that under your sweet and feminine appearance, there’s the soul of a warrior, but I never imagined a situation where it could come out…”  
“It doesn’t happen often”, she admitted, “I never want trouble, honestly; but if someone wrongs me, I get angry, and if they wrong someone I love, I go berserk.”  
Richard recalled how she reacted when she received Beatrice’s text telling her about her parents’ unqualifiable behaviour and nodded:  
“Same here”, he admitted, “I don’t lose my temper easily, but when it happens, better get off my way…”  
“If the way you perform the scenes where your characters get angry is any hint, it’s surely better to cut and run”, Nives commented in an earnest tone.  
At that moment, the doorbell rang. Nives went and opened the door, after making sure it truly was the boy of the pizzeria; she came back carrying the two boxes and with Richard went to warm them up into the oven.  
“What shall we drink?”, Richard asked, ready to pick up whatever she would point him out.  
“A light red wine called Tai…”  
“Did we ever drink twice the same type of wine?”, he asked, chuckling, while opening the box with the red wines. She shook her head, chuckling in turn:  
“No, I was careful about not making any doubles, in order to make you try the greatest possible variety.”  
She took the bottle opener from the drawer and was about to turn and uncork the wine, but surprising her, Richard embraced her from behind and held her, sinking his nose in her hair.  
“Did I already tell you I love you, today?”, he asked her in a low and tender voice. She felt literally melting in his arms.  
“Yeah, you told me a couple of times already”, she sighed, recalling the moments when it occurred, “but I don’t mind if you repeat it…”, she turned and wrapped her arms around his neck, “I love you, too, Richard”, she added, tilting back her head to offer him her lips. He bent and kissed her deeply, with great tenderness. Nives felt like flying to paradise, even more than when he made her reach the highest peaks of pleasure; but was he real, this wonderful man…?, she wondered, her heart pounding. She still found it hard to believe; maybe she would never be able to do it.  
When their lips parted, she held him tight, grateful to destiny because it made come true her _fangirl dream_ , even better than her most beautiful dream.  
Sensing her feelings, Richard held her tight in turn; after what she had told him about her depression, he understood perfectly how emotionally fragile she was, concerning their relationship, and he was determined to do anything he could to keep her reassured, day by day, even hour by hour if necessary.  
He, too, was anyway very grateful to destiny for letting him finally meet his woman, the other half of himself. At past 43, he had begun to doubt she existed, and instead, one night at theatre, their eyes had met and he had realised he had finally found her. The feeling was so unsettling that, at first, he wouldn’t recognize it, but it took only a few days with her to make him yield.  
“Better we take the pizzas off the oven”, Nives finally murmured, pulling back, “I wouldn’t want them to burn…”  
“Better not…. We need to restore the energy we spent today”, Richard commented chuckling, “Open the wine, I take care of the pizzas.”  
They took the piazzas and the wine to the dining room, then sat down and began to eat.  
“Tell me, now: who is _your_ favourite trek character?”, Nives enquired.  
“Captain Picard”, Richard answered resolutely, “I like his balance between audacity and diplomacy, empathy and determination, his loyalty, his reliability…”  
“Actually, he resembles you a little”, Nives pondered, struck by that thought.  
“Really?”, the British actor asked, “Mmh, I think I’m funnier…”  
“I agree, sometimes he’s a little too earnest. And what about _Star Wars_?”  
“Yoda, for sure; but my alter ego is a starfighter pilot of the Republic”, Richard claimed, grinning, obviously referring to the small part he performed in that famous saga. Nives giggled:  
“I’m a Jedi Knight instead”, she told him.  
“And what about _Doctor Who_?”, the actor enquired, sipping at the wine, “It’s my favourite series…”  
Nives nodded: it was logical that he, as an Englander, would prefer this series, which was one of the most long-lived ones in the world, a true myth of the science fiction genre.  
“I followed it only occasionally”, she answered, “My first Doctor was Four, Tom Baker… He made me laugh hard with his oversize-long scarf!”, she chuckled, “I watched almost all of his episodes, then I lost track of the series. I found it again a few years ago with the handsome David Tennant performing Ten: he, too, made me laugh because he has this funny way to open wide his eyes. When Matt Smith took his place with Eleven, I was rather satisfied, but then, because of time issues, I had to let go of it”, she shook her head, “When I learned that Sylvester McCoy alias Radagast, too, has been the Doctor, I was sorry not having seen him in that role…”  
“Oh, he’s been great”, Richard smiled, “He was able to give a very humorous style to his Seven, whereas others have been even too serious.”  
“Yeah, I can well imagine it”, Nives commented, “He seemed to me a person with a great sense of humour and it’s nice they allowed him to take this characteristic into the character he performed”, she smiled, “As I said, I’d be over the moon to see you as the Doctor, in my opinion you’d obscure all the predecessors.”  
“Oh come on, don’t exaggerate…”, Richard began; he paused seeing her pretending to glare at him, so he adjusted his statement, “Thank you; I don’t’ know if I’d obscure the other ones, but for sure I’d give it everything.”  
“As you always do”, she claimed.  
They chitchatted more about science fiction, passing from TV shows to movies – both adored _Close Encounters of the Third Type_ and _ET_ , besides _Star Wars_ – and to literature, among Asimov, Herbert, Clark, Heinlein and others, discovering that, for the most part, they liked the same things, but that in some others they had different tastes.  
“But my absolute favourite saga remains Middle-earth”, Nives said at the end, “I love it so much that, should I choose another world to stay in, it would be there. As you know, in the Tolkienverse I am Nerwen the Green”, she concluded, smiling, “who, incidentally, has an affair with Thorin Oakenshield!”, she added impulsively. Little by little, it was time that she revealed to Richard about the existence of her Tolkienian fan fiction. And about the others she dedicated to him, the one with him as Richard Armitage and the one with his character, sergeant John Porter, of which that same morning they had made a _re-imagination_. By now, there was no reason to keep it from him any longer.  
“Really?”, Richard asked, feeling flattered, “I wonder why it doesn’t this surprise me at all…”, he added grinning, his grey-blue eyes sparkling impishly.  
“Now don’t get ahead of yourself, Armitage!”, she scolded him, laughing; seeing him making his typical _adorkable_ face, she laughed harder, “I know, you’re too modest to do it… and it’s one of the reasons why I love you so much”, she concluded, stroking his arm. In response, he took her hand and kissed it, looking at her so adoringly, Nives felt literally melting on the chair.  
They quickly cleaned the table and loaded the dishwasher, looking forward to go back to their room and spend there their last night together in Cortina. Once there, Nives headed for the bathroom to get ready for the night; when she went back to the bedroom, she found the lights off and the fire burning. She wore the romantic green nightgown she had used in London – not that she could keep it on for more than a few minutes. Richard stared at her, his eyes full of ardent admiration.

  
Once again, the nightgown didn’t stay on her for long.

 

(*) I love you, my handsome British boy.


	9. Chapter IX: Monday, January 5th, 2015

 

Chapter IX: Monday, January 5th, 2015

Nives woke up and next to her felt the warmth of Richard’s body. Realising that finally the last day of this wonderful vacation had come, she felt her heart sinking, but she kicked away the feeling angrily: she had no intention to spoil the last hours of their stay in Cortina with the thought they would be separated for an undetermined period before meeting again. After all, what really counted was that they _would_ meet again. It wasn’t the last time, for Goodness’ sake, she told herself resolutely, swallowing furiously the lump at the bottom of her throat, symptom of her depression that always tried to take over; but she wouldn’t allow it, now she had Richard, the most incredible man she could dream of, and he was the best antidote to depression ever.  
She got up as much as quietly she could because she didn’t want to wake him up; she was naked – with Richard, she slept often like that – and shivered in the cold room. She quickly headed to the bathroom, where the farsighted architects had placed a very large radiator that heated the room well; she took a quick shower, then she dried herself off and sprayed a little perfume on her neck. She donned a bathrobe and got back to the bedroom, where she found the lights on and Richard laying on his stomach in her place. His expression still sleepy, the British actor looked at her.  
“ _Buongiorno, dolcezza mia_ ”, (*) he murmured in Italian, smiling his little, adorable smirk.  
“ _Buongiorno a te, amore mio adorato_ ”, (**) she replied, letting the bathrobe fall on the floor. Richard widened his eyes, suddenly wide-awake, and looked appreciatively at her from head to toe.  
“You’re gorgeous… but this way, you’ll catch a cold…”  
“You’re right”, she giggled, slipping promptly under the duvet, “Warm me up…”  
He didn’t need any other encouragement.

After their lovemaking, Richard lingered inside of Nives, unwilling to be separated from her. He peppered her face with kisses, ending up on her soft lips, where he tarried for a long while.  
“I wish I could stop time”, he whispered, sighing.  
“Me too”, she answered, “but unfortunately this isn’t possible… Let’s not think about it and instead enjoy every minute we’ve got…”  
They didn’t go downstairs to have breakfast, preferring to stay in bed. For a while, they snuggled tenderly, then they made love again, slowly to make it last longer. Finally they talked about their next encounter.  
“The invitation to my parents’ is still valid”, he reminded her, “Mum and dad would be really happy to have you as their guest, and my brother and his family can’t wait to meet you.”  
“I’m honoured by their invitation”, Nives answered, glad to hear it, “I think I can take a couple of days off, so to spend at least three full days with you… I could catch a plane at Friday night, sleep in London and then stay at your parents Saturday, Sunday and Monday, and then come back on Tuesday. What do you think about this schedule?”  
“Perfect! I’ll schedule my job so to be in London on Friday night and go back on Tuesday”, he kissed her, “Very week, every day without you will feel endless”, he said. Thinking of their now approaching separation, Nives felt tears welling up in her eyes; then she recalled something Beatrice had said once.  
“For me, too, the waiting will feel endless… but this will only make our next encounter better”, she pointed out under her breath. He pondered it for a moment, then he nodded.  
“You’re right”, he admitted, “You’re completely right…”

It was about 11.30 a.m. when Richard and Nives went downstairs. She had already packed her things, because the departure was set for 3 p.m., in order for her to arrive easily at home for dinnertime.  
They prepared the usual brunch, than sat down to eat. Both were sad about the imminent separation, but tried not to show it in order not to spoil the very last hours together, and so they ate chatting pleasantly.  
Finally, inevitably, the hour arrived. After loading the luggage on her car, Nives and Richard hugged and kissed; only after several minutes they managed to find the strength to get off one another. With a heavy heart, Richard caressed Nives’ cheek one last time and let he go, helping her to get into the car, then he shut the door; finally he used the remote to open the garage. Slowly, Nives backed up to go outside, then she turned the car and began to drive down the private road to reach the main road, which would lead her at first through the town-centre of Cortina and then toward Ponte nelle Alpi, until the crossroads where she would take the freeway for Belluno and Feltre.  
Nives concentrated on driving to keep at bay the sadness due to the separation from her lover. Initially, it was rather easy, but after a while her mind began to brood; for not getting completely demoralised, Nives thought to call her _twin_ friend, sure she would be listened to and sympathised with.  
Beatrice answered at the third ring.  
“Hi sis!”, she greeted her cheerfully, “Well, how was it?”  
“Astounding”, Nives answered, “It’s been the most incredible week of my entire life”, she added with a sigh, trying hard not to make her voice tremble, even if she felt on the verge of tears.  
“I’m so happy for you”, Beatrice claimed, “I envy you like crazy, y’know? In the best meaning of it, obviously.”  
“Thanks… But now we’ll meet again at Eastern, it’s a terribly long time…”  
“Gosh… Yeah, objectively that’s true, but think about it: the man of your dreams is yours, would you ever believe it? Isn’t it worth the sacrifice to see him seldom, but knowing he’s yours, yours and nobody else’s?”  
Nives swallowed the lump sticking in her throat.  
“You’re right”, she admitted, “but it’s so hard to be without him…”  
“Only physically”, Beatrice reminded her, “but you know that in your hearts you’re always together… Instead, I’m truly alone, I can only dream about Lee…”  
The sadness in her voice was apparent and Nives felt very selfish.  
“You’re right”, she repeated, remembering when she, too, could only dream, “I must learn to see the brighter side of it, that is, in spite of the distance and of seeing each other seldom, I am with a wonderful man who, besides, is also a famous actor.”  
“Good, bravo: positive thinking, that’s always essential”, Beatrice said, “C’m on, what do you tell me about what’s _spicy_ …?, she then asked, with the cheekiness only a close friend can dare.  
Nives giggled, blushing slightly while remembering.  
“I told Richard I wrote a fan fiction about Porter”, she said, “and he offered to perform the love scene with me. I was a little embarrassed, also because I didn’t want him to think I confuse him with the character, but he insisted saying it’d be funny. It was the first time for him, too, incidentally… And you know what? It _truly_ was funny!”  
Beatrice laughed:  
“You’re two _rascals_!”  
“I’ve never thought about doing something like this”, Nives said, “With Richard, I keep doing things I’d never dreamt about doing with my ex-husband.”  
“Huh? Besides the sexy role-play game, what else did you do?”, her friend enquired.  
“We made love in front of the fireplace…”  
“Goodness, how romantic!!”  
“…and in the Jacuzzi…”  
“Hoy, you’ve been very _busy_ , I see…!”  
Nives burst into laughter, grateful to Beatrice for her capability to cheer her up. She hoped that soon she, too, would find the man of her life, exactly like her.  
They chatted a good while; then, while Nives had almost reached Belluno, they hung up.

When Nives’ car disappeared in the distance, Richard, who had watched it going away, turned and got back into the garage, shut the door and went upstairs. He kept looking down, as he used to do when he was very troubled, his shoulders slumped like under a heavy weight.  
“I need a drink”, he muttered to himself.  
He headed for the living room and took a single-dose bottle of brandy from the bar, then he sat down and drank a mouthful. He felt like the light of the world had been turned off, and its warmth was gone, too. He almost wanted to get drunk, but he would never want that Nives, when calling him once at home, heard him in such a bad shape. And anyway, he didn’t want to have a headache the morning after, when going back to ski. He grimaced: he didn’t think he would be willing to go, but, if so, he would carefully keep it from Nives, or otherwise she would feel bad, because she would think she had spoiled his vacation. If he would decide to hole up at home, he would keep it by himself and let her think that everything was okay: he didn’t want Nives to feel bad for him for the entire world.  
He took another sip, elaborating the last thought. If at the beginning he had some doubts it was only an infatuation, maybe born from his deep longing for his twin soul, now he knew it wasn’t, he was truly in love, because he cared more for her than for himself: this is indeed the true meaning of loving someone, to care about the wellbeing of the beloved one, not ours. Love is altruistic: the other person comes first. The risk is that the other one can take advantage of this, if she or he does not love you the same way. It already happened, in the past; but he _felt_ that with Nives he was safe, because she would never take advantage of him. Let-downs bring mistrust, restraint, and one isn’t willing to give completely in to feelings anymore; but with Nives he had felt instantly he could trust her with his heart with no fear she could tear it into pieces. Only the day before yesterday he had realised the reason of his instantaneous trust in her: she had horribly suffered because of love, more than he had, and somehow he had sensed it. She _knew_ he loved her, but she was so terribly afraid to be let down another time, that she needed him to reassure constantly. And the best thing was, he never got tired of telling her how much he loved her. Seeing her eyes sparkle each time he repeated it to her, was the most delightful feeling in the world, even more than sex; which was, incidentally, absolutely great, with her.

Nives arrived home at almost 6.30 p.m.; tired and once again sad because of the parting from Richard, she parked her car and unloaded the luggage, then went upstairs to her apartment and called him.  
“You’re alright, baby?”, he asked her in a slightly anxious tone, “I was beginning to worry…”  
“I had to cross many towns”, she told him, “Traffic, red traffic-lights, police, and of course those who drive at snail-speed where you cannot take over, everything helped to slow me down. Anyway I arrived sound and safe”, she assured him.  
“That’s a good thing… You’re surely tired: go and rest, now.”  
“Yeah, I make me a cup of tea, take a look at the e-mail and then I’ll go to bed… without you, unfortunately…”, Nives concluded, sighing sadly. Richard, too, sighed.  
“I miss you already”, he said in a low voice.  
“And I miss you…”  
Reluctantly, shortly later, they hung up; Nives called her father to inform him she was back home. Luigi was happy to hear her and reminded her that the day after he awaited her for lunch.  
She unpacked and put in the washing machine what cloths needed it, Nives prepared herself an aromatic infusion and booted up her computer. She had not the slightest appetite, but she ate far too much during the last week and a little fast wouldn’t do her any harm. She checked her e-mail, not finding anything important, then she cast an eye on her Twitter and Facebook accounts. In one of the groups of Richard-fans she was member, she found a post that embittered her: someone had posted a picture with her and Richard at the London première and wrote _She even has crooked teeth… but what an ugly sissy did he grab??_ Nives was well aware she wasn’t not even by far as much as beautiful like actresses, singers and models who hanged out in the international jet set, at most she could be called _nice-looking_ , but that someone labelled her as an _ugly witch_ hurt her. A few comments agreed, even in cruel tones, while others defended her; her Facebook-friend who already defended her in another group, had replied in a very sharp way to her attacker. Then the admin of the group – she, too, a Facebook friend to Nives – who in a quiet but determined tone, reminded all that the lucky lady who won Richard’s heart was one of them, a fangirl like all of them, a normal woman who had great luck, and hence there was no reason to demand her to be strikingly beautiful, rich and famous, she was a woman in whom all of them could identify, a woman who made them all dream it could happen to them, too. She concluded admonishing the instigator to stop raising such a hornet’s nest again or she would be banned from the group. This had put an end to the quarrel.  
Nives sighed: she had to learn to handle this situation. Since the beginning, she had dreaded they would drop shit on her out of pure envy, but knowing it and seeing it with her own eyes were two different things. This strengthened the dejection feeling she already felt because of the parting from Richard, and this was no good for her.  
Then she remembered Richard’s encounter with Silvia Prada; a maybe insane curiosity caught her, and she searched Goodle, finding the Twitter account of the famous stylist’s daughter, who had tweeted _I ran into Richard Armitage in Cortina, cool guy, too bad he’s engaged to this one_ , and attached there was a picture of her in London, shot during the première of _The Battle of the Five Armies_. Another comment followed, saying _She’s really dull, isn’t she? I wonder where he’s picked up such a scarecrow…_  
This went straight to Nives’ wrong side; she wanted to follow Prada just to snap at her, but she thought better of it: it would be useless and futile and would only turn against her all the stupid fangirls like her. She had no desire to argue with those idiots, and therefore she gave it up.  
She finished her infusion, then she went to bed, tired, a little unhappy, but with much, much hope in her heart.

Tuesday, January 6th, 2015

The next morning, Richard awoke and felt horribly lonely. He grabbed his mobile phone and sent a text to Nives: _Cortina is no longer the same without you. I love you so much…_  
Just a few minutes later, he received the answer: _I love you too so much…_ followed by three hearts, then _And now go and have your breakfast, then ski. Don’t you dare to give it up because you feel demoralised!_  
Richard smiled, touched, his heart full of love for this wonderful woman who always cared about him and his wellbeing.  
_Yes madam! Now I understand why your Ranger friend called you a colonel LOL_  
She answered with a sticking out tongue and a kiss.  
Sighing, Richard got up, dressed and went downstairs to make a good English breakfast; in spite of his reluctance, given Nives’ determined encouragement, he decided to go on the ski slopes and try some rundown; should he feel too listless, he would cut short and go back to the chalet, but he had to give it at least a try, out of respect toward his lover.

Nives spent Epiphany day with her father, who had made a delicious lunch. Luigi asked discretely about how had been her vacation in Cortina and was glad to learn his daughter – this were her exact words – had _enjoyed it greatly_. He was very happy for her and very relieved, too: after Tina’s death, the thought that Nives would be completely alone, once he would be gone, too, had become more and more unbearable while time passed by. Now that his daughter had found this British actor – who, besides being a handsome man, seemed also nice and really in love with her – he felt comforted. He hoped he could meet him soon and have the final confirmation he would take care of his girl for the rest of her life. Unlike Emilio – may he rest in peace – who instead had left her with no reason…  
He listened to her telling him about the chalet, the spa, the fireplaces in all the bedrooms, the many compliments she received for her skills as a cook and a sommelier.  
“I bet that, after tasting your cuisine, Riccardo won’t be able to eat anything else equally heartily”, he commented, smiling.  
“He told me so”, Nives confirmed laughing, “I’m afraid I ruined him…”  
“I’m happy for you”, Luigi claimed, being of course completely convinced that his daughter deserved a man who loved her unconditionally, “Do you think I may meet Riccardo soon enough?”, he enquired; he had no intention to press Nives in this matter, but he would like to meet this man who apparently was able to make his daughter so happy.  
Nives was speechless for a moment: she had begun to think about it – after all, introducing Richard to her father was the next logical step in their relationship – but she didn’t expect this request from her father.  
“I don’t know”, she answered slowly, “The next three months, Richard will be in Toronto to shoot a crime series, too far to think about seeing each other. Then we are planning to meet at his parent’s in Leicester, at Eastern…”  
Luigi made a grimace showing he was sorry:  
“Won’t you end up tired, to be apart from him for so long? Or won’t he?”, he asked, worried, recalling the time he had been separated from Tina, when he had to leave for Switzerland looking for a job he couldn’t get in Italy.  
“It’s hard”, Nives admitted, “but luckily technology helps… and we think instead about how much more exciting it is meeting again each time.”  
“That’s for sure”, her father admitted, again recalling his own story, when Tina reached him in Switzerland, “I just hope you – both – won’t get tired, in time…”  
Nives was about to protest, but then she remained silent: after all, she couldn’t predict the future. A year, then years, all life long… who could tell? All she knew, was that she would do anything to make her relationship with Richard work, but her heart was divided between the instinctive conviction that Richard would do the same and the fear something could go wrong; this disturbed her, but it was a consequence of the way Emilio had treated her and she would need a very long time of _all is right_ to make her get over it…

Following weeks and months

The day after, Nives resume the usual routine: job, home, belly-dance classes, friends, writing, chatting with Beatrice. Two days later, Richard left Cortina, popping to his parent’s before his commitment in Canada.  
January 13th arrived the official announcement that Richard Armitage would he in six episodes of _Hannibal_ , in the role of Francis Dolarhyde, called _The Red Dragon_.  
“Many fans of yours that I know, are enthusiastic about this news”, Nives told Richard the following evening, when they got in touch through Skype; he was still in England, but would leave the day after, heading for Toronto. From the screen, Richard watched her intently.  
“But you aren’t, are you?”, he asked in a low voice. Nives made a face: she didn’t want to lie to him, making him believe she liked the idea of him playing the part of a brutal, necrophiliac serial killer.  
“Actually, no”, she admitted, “but I’m sure your performance will obscure both Ralph Fiennes and Tom Noonan…”, she smiled seeing him rising his eyebrow in surprise, “Yep, I’ve been reading up. Even if I don’t like a role of yours, I want anyway know more about it. And I read very positive comments about Bryan Fuller, the author of this series…”  
“Yeah, he’s great”, Richard confirmed, “I must say that it’s mostly because of him that I accepted this role, because I wanted to work with him for a long time… Lee, too, worked with him, in the series _Pushing Daisies_ , he was very satisfied with the experience”, he paused, “Changing subject, Warner Brothers decided to send me to Beijing with Peter Jackson for the Chinese première of _The Battle of the Five Armies_ …”  
“China??”, Nives cried in dismay, “Be careful… both or you, please, that’s not a place inspiring me with much confidence…”  
“Do you worry about our safety?”, Richard enquired, a little perplexed.  
“Yes… probably it’s only my paranoia, but… please, promise you’ll be careful.”  
“I promise, love, don’t worry. There will be surely an excellent security service, the Chinese don’t mess on this sort of things…”  
“I’m sure of that”, she said, trying to calm down, “When is this première due?”  
“On the 18th, practically tomorrow I leave for Toronto, I stay there for two days – just the time to meet with Bryan and the rest of the cast and crew – and then I leave again for Beijing. Pete will join me there, coming from New Zealand.”  
“Quite a stress…”, Nives muttered, again worried, even if for another reason.  
“I’m used to it”, he reassured her.  
“I think so… like when you had to sacrifice a week end of rest during _The Crucible_ to go to New York for the première of _Into the Storm_ ”, she recalled, “You’ll have to sleep in bits and pieces, that’s not much healthy… I remember seeing a picture of you with Peter and Martin Freeman sleeping on a couch, during I don’t know which première.”

  
“It’s not healthy, true, but fortunately it doesn’t happen so often”, Richard assured her with a calming smile, “Well, did you see Marlise Boland quoted you in her blog?”  
“No… where?”, Nives asked, surprised.  
“I’m up to receive her _Best British Artist_ award and also _Best British Actor in a Movie_ , with Thorin”, he explained, “Last year I won as the best artist, let’s see this year… Anyway, she quotes your name calling you my _Italian fiancée_.”  
Nives blushed: the designation _fiancée_ – a title implying a marriage promise they hadn’t discussed yet – embarrassed her, even if he seemed to take it with complete nonchalance.  
“Later I go and take a look at it…”, she said faintly. Again, Richard watched her intently, but he wasn’t able to guess what was bothering her.  
“You don’t like it, seeing your name all over the internet, do you?”, he tried. Nives shook her head:  
“I’ll adjust to it… I knew it’d happen, after we came out, but of course _knowing_ something and _experiencing_ it are to different things”, she admitted, making a face.  
“I can imagine quite well how all this gossip about our relationship affect you”, Richard commented, “I don’t like them, either, but it’s the price of fame. Anyway, I won’t discuss our relationship on Twitter, in spite of the hundreds of questions they ask me: as a public figure, I’ve got very few privacy, but what they leave to me, I aim to keep. At most, I answer a couple of questions during some interviews, but even then, only if previously agreed on. By the way, Marlise wrote me she’d like to interview us via Skype, if you agree, too.”  
He looked at her quizzically and Nives nodded:  
“Well, we promised it to her, in London… She’ll have to call me during her lunch break, when here it’s evening, as we did when you were in Los Angeles”, she concluded.  
“I’ll tell her. Can I give her your e-mail address? So you can agree on it directly.”  
“Sure…”  
Nives felt concerned: an interview with an international journalist like Marlise Boland and on a worldwide journalistic platform like her blog… The thought made her knees wobble. Worried, she wondered if she would ever get used to such a media exposure.  
Richard, with the eye of an actor trained to catch the slightest variations of a facial expression, noticed her anxiety.  
“You don’t have to do it, love”, he told her tenderly. She sighed.  
“I know… but this would only mean to postpone what’s inevitable. I could refuse to give any interviews to anyone, but this would just make the Armitage Army think I’m a nasty person, feeding those who already sling mud at me…”  
She broke off because she had seen him frowning.  
“You read unpleasant things about you?”  
Nives hesitated: she didn’t want to concern him, but she didn’t want to lie to him, either.  
“Yes, but I know it’s only nonsense… Besides, I think I have as many supporters”, she said, “who don’t hesitate to defend me. Many fans of ours identify with me and are enthusiastic that a fangirl like them was able to win your heart…”, she smiled at him lovingly, “and the above-mentioned fangirl continues to feel like in a dream…”  
Richard came nearer to the webcam, filling the screen; his grey-blue eyes were full of tenderness.  
“That goes for me, too, my sweet Italian girl…”  
An uncontrollable desire to cuddle him: how could he just be so _perfect_? And he wondered she continued to feel being in a dream? It was _entirely his fault_! Smiling, she blew him a kiss.

Richard’s reaction to the news that someone had said unkind things about his Nives didn’t take much to arrive: soon after ending the conversation, he tweeted in his usual quiet, but resolute, style: _Please use polite words when talking about my private life, included my fiancée. Thank you._  
When she read the tweet, the next day, Nives felt moved and longed for the transporter of Star Trek, to be able to run and hug him. For the umpteenth time, she wondered how all this could be real and she thanked fervently the Goddess for having allowed her to meet Richard and made him fall in love with her as much as she was with him.  
The answer of Richard’s followers was very animated and 90% favourable, while the few who dared to reply negatively were literally torn in pieces by the other ones. Nives felt greatly heartened.

Fortunately, Richard’s trip to China went off without a hitch; both he and Peter Jackson gained great personal success and the Chinese fans proved enthusiastic but respectful, what was a great relief for Nives. In those days, the actor posted several tweets: he didn’t tell openly, but he did it to reassure his _sweet Italian girl_ , whose anxiety didn’t soothe until he got back to Toronto.

  
Meanwhile, Marlise had got in touch with her and they had agreed on a date; the American journalist would interview her and Richard separately, in comfortable moments for each, then she would put together the two interviews in a single article. Obviously she would agree with both on the questions to ask them, so to blend them as if it was a single session. Among other things, Richard had won her prize as Best British Actor in a Movie, becoming the first one to receive it in two years in a row, even if in two different categories.  
_I’m very nervous,_ Nives wrote to Beatrice regarding this interview, _I’ve never done such things… I know that the Armitage Army will x-ray each word I’ll say, and whatever it may be, there will be someone ready to criticise…_  
_Oh, suck it up!,_ Beatrice encouraged her _, They won’t always like you, and they won’t all like you. You are you, don’t try to look different from how you are, even because it’s right this way Richard likes you, and that’s all that matters._  
_You’re right,_ Nives admitted, comforted, _after all, it’s part of the price to pay to be with a famous person… and I’m ready to pay any price, to be with Richard. If someone would have told me I would have Richard Armitage falling in love with me, I’d call him or her a raving lunatic… and instead… it’s all true, even if when I think about it, I still feel like just dreaming of it…_

The interview was easier than Nives had feared, even because she had decided to be sincere and tell Marlise she was nervous and worried, therefore the journalist made her feel comfortable with witty remarks and even fangirling when Nives answered her question about the way she and Richard had met. Marlise felt very touched when Nives confessed her she hadn’t been able to eat anything the whole day while thinking about going to theatre to see her idol live just a few metres away from her; and got very thrilled at the tale of her going two times to wait for him outside the stage door, especially the second time when he invited her to come in to talk to her. Then she got excited hearing about the day they spent together in Windsor, to say nothing about the stay in Venice when Richard told her he had fallen for her. Of course, Nives didn’t hint on the strange feeling of _predestination_ the actor felt regarding the seat she was sitting, which got him to behave in an unusual way, from asking her to wait for him to ask her a date, and to go to Venice to meet her again; she just said she believed in destiny: if Lorraine wouldn’t support her in what she thought to be a total crazy thing – that is, jump on a plane just to go and see a play – she wouldn’t go to London and would never meet Richard. Marlise could only agree and in the end she said it looked like the plot of a wonderful love story movie.  
“I hope Richard’s fan won’t eat me up alive”, Nives said sighing, when the interview was over. Marlise nodded sympathetically:  
“Don’t worry”, she reassured her, “There’ll be _always_ someone taking shots at you, no matter what you say or do, but believe me, most people will swoon reading about how you and Richard met: you really look like a modern fairy tale, such a romantic story is what all girls dream about. And I confess you: if I wouldn’t be already married and in love with my husband, I would dream about it, too!”, she concluded with a giggle that cheered Nives up.  
“Will you inform me, when you’ll publish the piece?”, she asked her.  
“Sure. Before I must interview Richard, too, and then edit the two clips in one single, coherent report… I think I’ll need two or three weeks.”  
They parted friendly and, before ending the conversation, Marlise invited Nives to go and see her, if she would one day go to Los Angeles; Nives was glad to accept. She had been to Los Angeles three days in 2004, during an organised trip of the south-western States, and she wouldn’t mind at all going back there.

“In between takes, I’m on another small job”, Richard revealed to Nives, while talking via Skype, as it occurred twice or thrice a week, exactly like they had done when he stayed in Los Angeles for _The Sleepwalker_. In Italy it was 7 p.m., in Toronto 1 p.m., and Richard was on lunch break, “I accepted only for you”, he added with a mysterious smile. She rose her eyebrows, marvelling:  
“What? For me? And what is it…?”  
“Audible asked me to read a selection of love poems for Valentine’s Day and I accepted immediately, thinking of you…”  
Audible was the same publisher that hired him for the reading of _Hamlet_.  
“You… thought of me? O Richard, you’re so sweet…”, Nives murmured, fighting the lump in her throat. Noticing her emotion, Richard felt his heart jumping in resonance.  
“It will be available for free download on iTunes from the 14 February; they’ll interview me shortly, too, about love”, he went on, his voice a little lower, “I’ll tell them things I deeply feel… thanks to you…”  
Nives’ eyes dampened; she reached out for the screen and brushed it in a virtual caress on Richard’s cheek.  
“Armitage, you’re incredible…”, she whispered. He smiled at her, more with his eyes than with his lips.  
“No, it’s just that I’m in love”, he replied under his breath.

Valentine’s Day was on Saturday; for many years now, Nives didn’t celebrate it because forcedly single and for this reason this day saddened her. Her father bought always a gift for her mother, even after 50 years marriage, and she felt wretched because of her own loneliness. But this year all was different: even if her Valentine was an entire continent away, she wasn’t alone, not any longer. Therefore that morning she booted up her computer with light heart and went straight on iTunes to download the free file of the love poems performed by Richard; the first was _How do I Love Thee_ by Elisabeth Browning. She was listening to the first verses, her throat tight, when someone rang the doorbell; annoyed, she stopped the play and went to open the door, but the moment she saw what it was about, her irritation disappeared: it was a gorgeous basket full of red roses. She thanked the delivery man and ran to place the basket on the dining table, then she read the card accompanying it. It simply said _I love you. Richard_ followed by a heart.

  
Terribly moved, Nives felt tears in her eyes welling up and thought that she never had cried out of joy so often, as she was doing in the months she was with Richard. Her heart swelled up until it almost exploded for too much love. She sent him immediately a text: Sweetheart, I just received your wonderful roses… I’m speechless. For a change LOL. Once more, I’m wondering if you’re real or if I’m just dreaming. You’re… too much. I love you so much. Your Valentine.  
In Toronto, it was four o’clock in the morning, it would take a couple of hours before he would read it, but he would find it first thing in the morning. She too, thought about a gift for Valentine’s Day: as Vicenza had a strong tradition in jewellery, her choice had been a gold bracelet with a plate where, in an elegant cursive, she had her name on the upper side, and on the lower side, the date when they got together in Venice, 20/09/2014. She would show it to him when he would call her via Skype, that same evening at 7 p.m. of her local time.

“It’s so beautiful, Nives… you shouldn’t have done it, it’s too much…”  
Richard was almost stuttering, so much did he feel moved: the gold bracelet Nives was showing him, his Valentine’s Day gift, was truly stunning, both aesthetically and because of what it represented.  
“Nothing is _too much_ , for you”, Nives replied, “but if you’re worried about the money I spent, there’s no need: I know people working in the jewellery field and I got it at factory price”, she reassured him, winking.  
“Very well… but don’t complain ever again if I get you high-profile gifts, agreed?”, Richard retorted, recalling her protests for the iPod. Caught red-handed, Nives made one of her funny faces he thought adorable.  
“Ooookay”, she grumbled.  
“Too bad I’ll need waiting to wear it until the next time we meet”, Richard commented, skipping with a grin his little act, “I talked to production and I agreed on some days off at Easter, so now I can confirm to my parents we’ll go to them. When I mentioned it to them, they were absolutely delighted. Especially my mom, who can’t wait to get to know you better.”  
“I’m glad to hear this, I’ll be happy, too, to get to know better her and your father; and to meet your brother and his family. We’ll sleep in a hotel, I think…”, she added, tentatively.  
“No, we can sleep at my parents': they converted Chris’ and my old bedrooms in a guest rooms, with double beds and their own bathrooms”, Richard watched her intently, noticing she looked uncomfortable, “Do you feel embarrassed to sleep with me under the same roof as my parents?”, he asked, perceptive as usual.  
Nives nodded:  
“A little bit… in Italy, many would consider this improper, even in the 21st century.”  
“I see… In England instead this is completely normal, and anyway Chris and Susan slept at my parents' a long time before getting married; even more: they lived there together for almost a year before their marriage.”  
“Oh… well, then there’s no reason why I should feel embarrassed”, Nives concluded, shrugging, “As long as the room is soundproof”, she added with a rogue smile. Richard couldn’t help and burst out in laughter at this hint to their _night activities_ , surely quite  _energetic_.  
“Never fear, the guest rooms are on the opposite side of a long corridor…”  
It would be still many weeks before they could meet again; it wouldn’t be easy for either of them, but sooner or later, weeks would become days, then hours, and finally they would be able to be together again…

(*) “Good morning, my sweet.”  
(**) “Good morning to you, my cherished love.”


End file.
